Best Laid Plans
by Fate Harbor
Summary: -First in the Sister Series- Bonnie Scott's plans go awry when there's a mix of espionage, the unexpected appearance of her older brother and an inconvenient romance. Why did romance have to find her when the quadrant is at stake? Spock/OC
1. Reunions

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I'm working diligently on acquiring Spock.**

**So, Spock and Uhura were never together in my universe. Such a fine piece of ass needs to be available for fangirls like me and, of course, my characters :) **

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Bonnie walked down the glaringly white, sterile halls of Star Fleet Medical Center. Her new assignment would start today and it was her biggest yet, aboard the flagship of the Fleet: the USS Enterprise. She was about to pass the building's on-site transporters, when a young man poked his head out from the room.

"Excuse me, Doctor, but Enterprise is ready to receive you." he reported.

"If I could have a moment, Ensign? I have to change into my uniform."

The young man gave a strained smile, not wanting to keep Enterprise waiting, but nodded anyway.

She moved a few doors down to the ladies room and removed her backpack. Closing the stall door, she took out her blue dress that marked her as a medical officer and stripped off her civilian clothing. She changed into the short outfit and pulled on her knee-high black boots. The uniform was very revealing and hardly ideal for concealing weaponry, but she did her best. Reaching further into the backpack, she removed a strap lined with four small knives and wrapped the band around her calf before zipping the boots. Lastly, she took out a thin, next-generation phaser about the size of a small calculator and slipped it between her breasts. Finally ready, she stuffed the backpack down the waste shoot and went back to the transporter room.

Giving the transporter chief a kind smile, she said, "I'm ready."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"This is the last one, right?" Kirk asked intently, glaring at the transporter pad. His normally light-hearted, cocky attitude was conspicuously absent. They'd defeated Nero five weeks ago, he'd been appointed as Captain of the Enterprise a month ago, yet they were still stuck in dry-dock. He was eager, chomping at the bit really, to get underway, but the ship needed extensive repairs and the crew manifest needed a serious overhaul. Some personnel had been reassigned, some were still cadets and therefore needed to return to the Academy, and some…well, the honorable dead had been given solemn but proud funerals.

"Yes, Captain." Spock answered placidly by his side. "Engineering is on stand-by for departure as soon as the doctor arrives."

"Tell me again why the hell we need a counselor on-board?" Kirk sighed. He was no fan of doctors to begin with, but all that touchy-feely psychobabble made him shudder.

"Because all these damned infants want a shoulder to cry on and they've been blubberin' and snottin' all over me." Bones retorted. "I can patch up just about anything, but I didn't sign up to wipe away tears and kiss it all better."

"Captain!" Scotty interrupted in his excited Scottish brogue. "Star Fleet Medical reports their head-shrinking voodoo witch doctor-" Scotty cut off as the senior officers turned back to look at him: Kirk, in amusement. Spock, with a curiously raised eyebrow. And McCoy, with a glare. "Excuse me, Sirs. The _therapist_ is ready to beam aboard."

"Finally." Kirk muttered under his breath before barking, "Energize!"

The Captain, First Officer and Chief Medical Officer all stood straighter, ready to greet their final addition. The swirling rings of light illuminated the pad and Kirk's bad mood vanished in an instant, replaced by a casual, flirtatious smirk. The pad was now occupied by a pretty, vibrant woman. She was built with the petite, willowy figure of a pixie and the short, blue dress hugged her curves. Kirk couldn't decide if her hair was more red or blonde, but it lay in soft waves down to her waist and fell against the peaches-and-cream glow of her skin. Her almond-colored eyes were narrowed critically, glancing from face to face.

Kirk took a step toward the pad, hand outstretched gallantly. "Welcome ab-"

"Mary, Mother of God!" Scotty exclaimed loudly, eyes wide as saucers and staring at the newcomer. "It canna be!"

The woman's eyes nearly popped out of her skull and a frown pulled her mouth down for a brief moment. Shaking her head, a brilliant smile lit up her face as she ran down the transporter pad, completely bypassing Captain Kirk's handshake and the other two men. Scotty stood with his arms outstretched and a wide smile, catching the girl as she jumped into his arms. She hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms and legs around him, squealing and laughing as Scotty spun them around. Spock's head tilted to the side at the interaction and he glanced at his fellow officers. McCoy just rolled his eyes, clearly not caring about the goings-on. Instead, he removed his hip-flask and took a swig, leaning against a bulkhead. Kirk's eyebrows had risen to his hairline and his smirk had blossomed into a devilish smile. Glancing back at the impromptu reunion, not even his Vulcan control could keep his eyes from viewing the girl's…display. Her short skirt had ridden up even further, giving them a glimpse of the curve of her backside. Spock glanced away uncomfortably.

"Monty!" the girl cried, as Scotty tripped over the deck plating. They fell to the ground, but her panting laughter turned into gales of giggles as Scotty began to…was he tickling her?

"Mr. Scott." Spock said sharply. Both individuals glanced up and the girl jumped up immediately, smoothing down her skirt. She shot Scotty a half-hearted glare for making her lose control in front of the men, but Scotty was ever un-repentant as he shrugged.

"I'm so sorry, Captain, it's just-" the girl began only to be cut off by Scotty.

"Laddies, I'd like ya to meet me sister, Bonnie Scott." Scotty said proudly, throwing an arm around her. "Bonnie, this is Captain Kirk, Commander Spock and that grumpy bastard in the corner is Dr. McCoy, CMO."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bonnie." Kirk said with a smirk, gripping her hand and pumping it up and down slowly.

"Likewise, Captain." Bonnie said cheerfully, ignoring his flirtations and turning to McCoy. "Doctor, you're reputation precedes you. I look forward to working with you."

"As long as you get the whiners off my back, we'll get along just fine Dr. Scott." McCoy said gruffly, giving her hand a rough jerk before releasing her.

"Welcome aboard, Doctor." Spock greeted, hands clasped behind his back.

Bonnie turned to the Vulcan, looking at him fully for the first time. Something about him made her stifle a smile. Many would have her committed for thinking so, but she found the arching eyebrow, full parted lips and faint green tint to his pale skin to be handsome and even charming…in a quirky, understated kind of way. His face was blank, but the cold, emotionless exterior that put others off was non-existent in her eyes; her ability to see inside a person was unmatched. It was an innate talent that made her extremely valuable, both in her position as a counselor and in her real profession. She had an uncanny ability to read others with startling ease and the Vulcan's emotions were boiling just below the surface. They were volatile and draining, but the intriguing man had an admirable handle on them.

She stepped close, her trance-like focus devoted to him and him alone. "So sad." she breathed, her eyes glancing between his soulful brown ones. "So conflicted and angry."

"I beg your pardon, Doctor." Others might consider his tone neutral, but Bonnie heard the warning in his words. Snapping out of her concentration, she blushed and backed away from him.

Bonnie opened her mouth to apologize, but Scotty nudged her with his elbow. "Have'na lost your touch, eh, baby sister?" Turning to the men, he practically glowed with pride. "I swear, the lass is damn near clairvoyant! Quick! What am I thinkin' 'bout?"

"Sandwiches." Bonnie responded automatically. "Black forest ham on rye, to be specific."

"Wow." Scotty breathed in awe as Kirk chuckled. "You're good."

"Not hard to guess." Bonnie said teasingly. Despite her light tone, Spock raised an eyebrow at the brief, unexplained flash of panic in her eyes. "You're always thinking about food and that's your favorite. Or, at least it was, last I saw you." she said accusingly.

"Tain't my fault I got exiled to Delta Vega!"

"I'm sure." she snorted sarcastically. "What's your excuse for the years before that? Last time I saw you, I'd just turned sixteen for God sakes! I haven't seen you in what - nine years? I bet you didn't even know I was in Star Fleet!"

"Or that you're a shrink now." Scotty agreed, his lip curling at the word 'shrink'. "I thought you were still in school!"

"It's psychologist, not shrink." Bonnie said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. "And don't change the subject. Why haven't you come to visit me?"

"Sorry, Tidbit, but I canna stand that harpy-banshee-shrew-bitch that Da married after Ma passed!" Scotty exclaimed.

"Oh and you think I like her!" Bonnie huffed. "Sheila moved us to the States! She enrolled me in _debutante classes_ after you left! She made Da start wearing a toupee!"

Scotty opened his mouth to yell back, but pinched his lips together at the thought of Bonnie in a white poufy dress with ruffles and bows. Sputters started to escape him as he pictured his Da tromping around in a ridiculous toupee. Glancing at Bonnie, he could see her lips twitching in amusement. Their eyes met and they simultaneously burst out in fits of laughter. Bonnie doubled over and Scotty threw an arm over her back to keep from falling to the floor. As their laughter finally died down, he glanced at her fondly and pecked her cheek.

"I did miss ya, Tidbit." Scotty smiled. "Now, go on to the mess hall, love. Ya must be starved. I'll join ya in a minute and we'll catch up."

Scotty watched her go and then turned back to his superior officers. Kirk's lips were curled into a smirk of pure sex and his head was tilted to the side as he watched her bum sway in that short dress. McCoy looked after her with mild interest, like working with her might not be so bad. And Spock watched her leave as well, a thoughtful, intrigued expression on his usually neutral face.

Scotty cleared his throat and the men snapped their attention back to him. The scowl on the chief engineer's face was replaced by a deceptively easy-going smile. He came between Jim and Bones, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders. "Did ya know that warp plasma can liquefy human flesh on contact, leavin' a body unidentifiable, if not evaporatin' it completely?" he swiveled his head between them, a jolly smile on his face as though he'd just told a hilarious joke. An instant later, his mouth pulled into a serious expression for the first time since they'd known him. "Anyone messes with my baby sister and they'll be joinin' Admiral Archer's prized beagle in oblivion. Spread the word, will ya?"

Scotty left with a bounce in his step and the three men were left in silence. "I am uncertain as to what has transpired." Spock said, his eyebrows furrowed. "Mr. Scott is typically affable – exasperatingly so – yet he just threatened three superior officers with bodily harm. What has changed?"

"He was just giving us a not-so-friendly reminder of the rules." McCoy snorted.

"His attempt at intimidation does not conform to any rules of Star Fleet. On the contrary, his actions are in direct violation of several." Spock pointed out.

"Not those rules." Kirk rolled his eyes, clapping a hand on Spock's shoulder. "The rules of friendship. A guy doesn't go after his friend's ex, his love-interest and above all else, thou shalt not touch thy friend's sister. A damn shame, too."

"You could do with a refresher in the rules, Jim." McCoy scowled. "Didn't stop you from hittin' on my sister."

"And it won't stop me from hitting on his, either, Bones." Kirk grinned wickedly.

"Is Mr. Scott not your friend?" Spock asked.

"Of course he is!" Kirk assured him. "But you know me. Since when do I take the rules seriously? Besides, the code is just there so you and your buddy know that what you're doing is wrong, not necessarily to stop you."

"Fascinating." Spock commented. "That logic is incredibly circuitous and based almost entirely on human male posturing, having little to do with the female in question."

"Trust me, Spock." Kirk laughed, moving out the door with the Vulcan. "It's always about the female."

"The female anatomy, more like." McCoy muttered, following his friends.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

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	2. Sessions and Mediations

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Bonnie.**

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Bonnie fought to keep a grip on the unwieldy frame as she tried to hoist it onto the wall. The picture was of an ocean scene. A sunset illuminated the water's calm surface and the rippling light stretched endlessly in a blend of harmonious color. But below the surface of calm waves and lapping water, there were violent brushstrokes of rip-tides and swirling, dangerous vortexes. It was one of her favorites; she'd painted it as a teenager during her rigorous mental training and had grown attached to it over the course of the creative process.

The frame slipped from her grasp again but was steadied by a firm hand. Bonnie's gaze travelled up the arm and settled on Captain Kirk's grinning face. He took the painting from her and planted it on the wall effortlessly.

"Thank you, Captain." Bonnie inclined her head slightly, moving to her desk.

"You've done a lot with the place." Kirk commented casually, looking around her new office. It had started off as a sterile, clinical space but had been transformed into a warm and welcoming office. There were two plush couches facing each other and her desk was unimposing. She'd painted the walls a soothing light blue and had added bookshelves, art and candles. It wasn't cluttered, but neither was it minimalist. It was…cozy. And it was her.

"It took some doing, but I think I'm about finished." she smiled, hands on her hips as she looked around the room with satisfaction.

"You know my favorite part of the room?" he asked with a smirk. She shook her head and he closed the distance between them. "The couches."

Bonnie pushed at his chest. Once she'd turned away from him, she rolled her eyes. She'd been on the ship for two days and he'd spent most of that time coming on to her. She pretended to be flattered like most of her fellow female crewmates, but in reality found it annoying. Seduction was the furthest thing from her mind. She had to balance her cover assignment as a counselor and her covert assignment at the same time; she had more important things to do than fend off his wandering eyes and constant advances.

"I'm glad you like them." she said, turning back and handing him a PADD from her desk. "Because you'll be doing some couch-time later this week."

"Excellent." he grinned. She shook her head and pointed to the PADD.

"You misunderstand, Captain. I have orders from Star Fleet Medical. They're concerned about the psychological impact of the Nero incident. There are 67 crew members remaining on Enterprise that experienced those events. I'll be doing preliminary evaluations of each of them and mandating additional sessions to those I feel would benefit. I've scheduled the senior staff for Friday. You are to report to my _lovely couch_ at 1400 hours." she concluded, giving him a sweet smile.

He stared at the PADD with wide eyes before glancing up at her. "I'll give you a promotion if you get me out of this." he said seriously.

She gave an airy, light laugh. "No dice, Captain."

"Okay." He dragged out slowly. "Then I'm ordering you to cancel the session."

"Nope!" she said gleefully. "I'm like the Chief Medical Officer in that respect. In matters of psychological health, my orders override the Captain's. 1400 hours, Captain. Don't be late or I'll send Dr. McCoy after you with a shot of tranquilizer." she said, pushing him out of her office.

"Wicked pixie." he muttered at the now closed doors.

"Captain?" a familiar, emotionless voice asked. Spock came to his Captain's side and walked with him toward the turbo-lift. "Were you referring to Dr. Scott?"

"Yes, damn it, that woman is giving orders on my ship!" Kirk exclaimed.

"If her orders are in relation to the psychological well-being of the crew, then her orders are valid, non-negotiable and in the best interest of performance aboard Enterprise." Spock informed him.

"Yes, thank you." Kirk deadpanned. "She just got done telling me that herself. Let's see how 'valid' you think her orders are when she's trying to get inside _your_ head."

"I don't understand."

Kirk thrust the PADD at him and tapped the screen anxiously. "We're all down for therapy sessions! Yours is in two days, right after mine! Why didn't they just mark us for death and be done with it?"

"While your hyperbole is rather extreme, I must admit, I find this prospect…unappealing." Spock said, his face twitching ever so slightly in what Kirk had classified as the Vulcan Grimace. "But this is one order I suggest you follow, Jim. Without psychological clearance, Star Fleet can declare you unfit for duty and remove you from your post as Captain."

"Damn." Kirk sighed. "Fine, but I'm going to be the picture of mental health. I'll convince her my childhood was all lollipops and rainbows and that I'm the happiest, most well-adjusted Captain in Star Fleet. Anything to avoid more sessions."

"I believe Dr. Scott to be extremely perceptive." Spock argued, thinking back to their first encounter. "She will not be fooled and will most likely assign more therapy to get past your dishonesty."

Spock could almost see the gears turning in his friendn's mind, looking for a way out. Finally, his shoulders slumped slightly and the defeated captain said vacantly, "Wow. There really are such things as no-win scenarios."

If Spock didn't work tirelessly to suppress his emotions, he would have been supremely annoyed. Where his carefully crafted Kobiyashi-Maru test failed, the mere idea of therapy had succeeded. Even by human standards, Jim could be most puzzling.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Spock walked purposefully through the empty hallway leading to Counselor Scott's office. In the past two days, he'd seen a wide-range of reactions to the psychologist's sessions. For some, their time with her had a calming affect. For others, just the opposite; their emotions surfaced with erratic frequency and strength as they 'dealt' with them. From a scientific standpoint, he'd become increasingly intrigued by her methods…though not enough to want to experience them for himself. Simply put, Vulcans did not discuss their feelings.

Just before he arrived at the therapist's new office quarters, the doors opened with a quiet hiss and Jim stepped out. His head hung low and his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Spock had rarely seen his Captain without his usual expression of self-confidence and authority, but at the moment he looked troubled. It was almost as though being inside his own mind was unsettling for him.

"Jim?" Spock inquired.

Kirk shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts and glanced up at his friend. With a mystified expression on his face, he asked absentmindedly, "How the hell did she do that?"

Leaving the Vulcan to ponder the odd question, Kirk moved down the hall toward the turbo-lift. Spock quirked an eyebrow at the curious meeting and entered the doctor's office. Bonnie sat casually on the couch, her feet tucked under her as she scribbled on a pad of paper.

"I'll be right with you, Commander." Bonnie called, not looking up from her work. "Have a seat."

Spock lowered himself stiffly onto the overstuffed couch, a sense of dread and discomfort rising from his core until he forced it back down. He didn't know what to expect from such an encounter. Would she ask questions and he would simply have to answer? Would she expect him to volunteer intimate details about himself? Would she see suppression as denial rather than a different way of dealing with emotional complexity? The session hadn't even started, but already he disliked the experience, as well as the uncertainty it made him feel.

Finally putting aside her notepad, Bonnie gave Spock a gentle smile. From their first meeting, Bonnie had ruled Spock out as a potential threat. After all, his dossier had records of his behavior during the Nero incident. He'd lost his planet, his mother and if that weren't enough, his loyalties and logic would never allow him to be a part of something so…heinous. So, for the first time all day, she could drop the pretense of counseling and put aside her ulterior motives as well. She'd still have to keep up her façade as a therapist, but considering she was qualified as a psychologist, it didn't even feel like a cover at times.

"How are you today, Commander?"

"Well." he said curtly. Star Fleet may deem this torment necessary, but he would not compromise his Vulcan standards of behavior to make the human doctor more comfortable with their interaction.

"Glad to hear it!" she beamed, either not noticing or not caring that his reply was stilted and forced. "I trust you're adapting to your role as first officer without too much challenge?"

"Yes." he replied, not elaborating.

"Excellent." she smiled.

She made no further comment or attempt at small talk and Spock could feel his anxiety rising from behind his mental barriers.

"Forgive me, Doctor." Spock broke the silence tightly. "But I am unaccustomed to this ritual of therapy. I do not know how to proceed."

"That's alright, Spock. I actually have a confession to make." she said lightly. "This isn't a therapy session."

Spock's head tilted sharply. "Please, clarify."

"Star Fleet Medical gave me a roster of crew members to evaluate and, honestly, I was surprised to find your name on the list. For a group of trained psychoanalysts, the order to assess your emotional state was rather tactless of them. So, I've decided not to do a session with you."

"You are disobeying a direct order?" Spock asked. Though he was uncomfortable with this arrangement, he was ordered to endure it and therefore, he would. But she was choosing not to follow orders and that was unacceptable.

"The rules are different for doctors, Spock." Bonnie informed him. "We have our orders, but we are the ones out here in the trenches, not the men and women on the board of directors. If our first-hand judgments disagree with orders, we can rule against them. I don't agree with their order to evaluate you. As a race, your people suppress their emotions. The idea of talking freely about intimate emotions with a stranger must be distasteful, if not culturally insulting!"

"Your sensitivity in this matter is unexpected, but appreciated, Doctor." Spock inclined his head in thanks.

"Please, call me Bonnie." she said, her eyes sparkling with contentment. "Unfortunately, I still have to report to my superiors that I spent this hour with you. If you'd like, you can spend that time meditating – there are some candles on top of the bookshelf – or, we can spend it getting to know each other."

Spock tilted his head in consideration, his eyes seemingly vacant. Bonnie observed him and could tell the exact moment when he reached a conclusion. His brown eyes came back to life and she could practically see the questions buzzing in his mind. "Why did you release me from this obligation, yet hold Captain Kirk to it? He was much more vocal in his objections than I."

Bonnie laughed lightly, glad that he'd chosen to interact with her rather than retreat inside himself. "Jim is an extraordinary man, but the fact remains, he is still human. All beings must learn to deal with their emotions and our intrepid leader is no exception. For Vulcans, that method is repression. For humans, it is usually healthy to express them, but at the very least, they must be confronted. I chose to excuse you from this because Vulcans are taught from an early age how to appropriately deal with emotional thought; they even have classes, for goodness sake! But humans are left to wade through the confusing, sometimes painful awareness of emotion alone. Much like the purging of emotion through _Kolinahr_ is a right of passage for young Vulcans, learning to deal with emotions in a healthy, appropriate fashion is a journey to maturity for humans. Each individual finds their own way through that journey and when they come to an impasse, that's where my profession comes in."

"Fascinating." Spock said, his lips parted slightly. "The intricacies of human functionality and emotion often escape me, but your explanation is clear and logical. Why are humans so averse to the concept of therapy if it is designed to help them understand their own inner-workings?"

"That's the logical way to approach the practice of psychology, but as you've learned, humans aren't always logical. Trying to understand oneself challenges the human psyche in so many ways and most people see asking for help in that journey as a weakness in their character. They feel they should be able to navigate the complex labyrinth of conscious and sub-conscious urges and emotional and rational thought completely alone. If they can't, some feel marked as a failure."

"I have always felt humans were chaotic beings and now I have medical proof." Spock said, his lips rising at the corner ever so slightly.

She snorted in good-humor. "As if Vulcans are any better. You're just as chaotic as we are, but you hide it better."

"On the contrary, logic affords us serenity. We are at peace within our own minds."

She opened her mouth to retort, but a wonderful idea suddenly popped in her head. "Do you always focus on a flame when you meditate?"

Spock drew back at her abrupt subject change. "We focus on many different objects, or none at all, depending on the goal of our meditations."

"Perfect!" she exclaimed. Bonnie dragged one of her desk chairs in front of the ocean painting. Patting the seat, Spock walked to her stiffly. "Sit. Now, I want you to focus on this painting during your meditation. Focus on the scene as a whole and then, in its distinct halves. Take this scene inside of yourself. Transplant the image from canvas to the expansive serenity of your mind."

Spock listened to her light, comforting voice and drifted into an altered state of consciousness. His eyes became unfocused as he stared at the painting. Travelling through the absolute calm, he found himself being rocked by the gentle lull of waves depicted in the work of art. His body was immersed in the warm cocoon of water and the oranges, pinks and reds of the setting sun splayed over his body. Only his face was raised above the ocean, but his ears were submersed. An all-encompassing hum, sounding vaguely like Bonnie's voice, echoed from the water and into his mind, pushing any and all distracting thoughts away from the peace of this moment. It was a calm, so calm it felt like dying. Like his soul was lifting from his body, without the limitations or expectations of physical reality to hold him down. It didn't bring the control of his typical meditation; he didn't press his emotions down, but instead rose above them. This wasn't power over emotion. Freedom from feeling altogether was found atop these waves.

Just when he was about to float off into a new level of reality, he felt a sharp pressure from beneath him. It tugged him down, making him bob on the surface. The jerking grew more insistent until he was sucked beneath the lazy waves in a rush of panic and fear. He was dragged further into the crushing depths, experiencing a world of violent turmoil, silent darkness and powerlessness. Spinning waters and vortexes swirled around him and he whipped his head around frantically, trying to find some semblance of order to cling to. Rip tides carried his helpless body on the underground currents, flinging him carelessly from one rush of suffocating black to another.

A gripping current threw him upwards and Spock found himself surrounded by vortexes, like small tornados, on all sides. A gentle hum pushed into his mind and the disembodied voice guided him toward the violent funnels of water. Looking closer, the swirling waters were not ecological phenomena, but feelings. Each vortex was a different emotion. Ones such as curiosity or amusement spun slowly, gently. Ones such as anger and grief stretched deep into the sea below him, the large pools spinning fast and violent. And in the whirling rings of water, he could see memories playing out: his mother falling from the cliff, his planet collapsing in on itself, Jim taunting him, countless Vulcans expressing their disdain for his lineage. Tearing himself away from the daunting, overwhelming whirlpool, he pushed sluggishly through the dark waters to a softly spinning eddy. The comfort of this particular emotion was unparalleled and pure. In the waters of memory, he could see his mother brushing the hair from his face and kissing his forehead and his father telling him he was grateful for his son's dual heritage. This was love. He was surrounded on all sides by the strongest, deepest, most life-altering emotion in existence. And then suddenly, like the arms of a gentle mother plucking her child from a crib, his beloved logic wrapped him in safe, warm waters and returned him to the calm surface once more.

"Spock." A distant voice called. His eyes shifted from beneath his eyelids and he opened them as the voice became more definite. "Spock."

He turned to see Bonnie, a soft smile on her face.

"What happened?" Spock asked, disoriented.

"The Captain called from the bridge, wondering why you haven't returned to your station. I'm afraid I kept you more than an hour." Bonnie replied quietly.

"I should return to my post. This has been…it was…thank you for your time, Counselor." Spock said, glancing at the stationary painting from the corner of his eye. As he stood, he gave a rigid tug on his shirt, straightening it. Spock left the office without another word and walked through the familiar halls of Enterprise like a phantom, barely aware of the direction his feet were taking him. His face was set in a pensive, perplexed expression. He didn't even remember the journey to the bridge but suddenly found himself staring blankly at his console.

"Spock!" Kirk called loudly. By his tone, he'd been calling for the Vulcan's attention for some time. Spock looked up, the same strange expression on his face. "Well?" Kirk asked expectantly. "How did it go?"

Spock looked at Kirk vacantly before responding. "How the hell did she do that?"

Kirk burst out laughing, shaking his head and turning back to the view screen.

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	3. Alone

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. Tragic.**

**Okay, this chapter is going out to –YouStoleMyName – Thanks for all the great reviews!**

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Bonnie breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she stepped into her quarters at the end of her shift. Three full days of therapy sessions and she was no closer to completing her objective. Her superiors would be less than pleased. But despite her lack of progress, it was nice to just be a counselor for now, even if it couldn't last. It made her feel…normal. Bonnie had just tugged at the zipper of her ridiculously short dress when her computer monitor activated of its own accord and showed the stern face of her handler. She'd known him all her life, but only found out about his _real_ work after he'd recruited her. For years, she'd known him as Uncle Levi, a friend of the family, but now she referred to him by his agency handle. All operatives in their cell were given codenames from Saturn's moons and, as their head, he was appropriately named after the largest.

"Titan." she greeted professionally.

"Tethys." he nodded back, getting straight to business. "Sit-rep."

"I've finished my preliminary sessions, but no suspects yet. I still have about forty people to get through though."

Titan's nostrils flared. "Need I remind you how urgent this is? The security of the Federation, maybe even the entire galaxy is at risk!"

"I won't let another planet be consumed like Vulcan, Titan! Don't you dare insinuate that I'm not doing all I can here, but I'm restricted by my cover! For God sakes, I'm conducting therapy sessions, not interrogations! But just because I haven't identified a suspect doesn't mean I didn't rule people out." Bonnie took a deep breath to reclaim her calm, continuing once her professional demeanor was back in place. "Since I'm limited in what I can do here, I'm going to need support. I recommend you monitor Enterprise's computer activity remotely. Any suspicious entries could give us a clue to the traitor's identity. Also, I'd like Mimas to do extensive background checks on the names I'm sending you; someone selling this kind of information has to have contacts and connections."

"I'll get them to you tomorrow." Titan said, before hanging his head heavily. "Look, I know you're alone out there, Tethys. And _you_ know this mission may be your last. You're in an isolated environment on that ship. On the plus side, the traitor won't have anywhere to run once you discover him, but there's a good chance taking this bastard down will blow your cover for good."

"Its small price to pay." she said unyieldingly.

"No one is suspicious of you?" Titan asked.

She snorted indelicately. "Are they ever? I'm as unassuming and open as they come, part of the reason you recruited me."

"Even Montgomery?"

Bonnie looked away, clenching her jaw. "Titan, why didn't you tell me my brother was here? His presence compromises me!"

"It also helps strengthen your cover." Titan shot back. "They'll trust you more easily because you're already part of the Enterprise family."

"You still should have told me! I haven't seen him in years and now I have to lie to him!"

"I trust that won't be a problem." Titan stressed, a heavy warning in his tone.

Bonnie pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "No."

"Good. Titan Out."

Bonnie switched off her computer monitor and blew out a world-weary sigh, cradling her forehead in the palm of her hand. Titan seemed to be missing the entire point of a cover, which was to keep an operative's personal life clandestine. She wasn't Maggie O'Connell or Beth Darby or Karen Mitchell or any of her other cover identities here; she was Bonnie Scott and her brother was Montgomery Scott. If she was discovered, the turncoat could use that information against her…or worse, against Monty.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Though Bonnie and Titan were meticulous in their work, they overlooked one seemingly insignificant detail: the unparalleled skill of Lieutenant Uhura. She was at her console on the bridge, sifting through the previous day's communication logs, when she suddenly pressed her earpiece closer. There was no communications activity at the moment, but there was a subtle pattern in one of the high-band frequencies. To anyone else, it would sound like background static, but the almost inaudible sound was definitely modulated. Tapping the panels on her console, she isolated the frequency and amplified it. A rhythmic beeping became clear as day and she whipped her seat around.

"Captain, we have an unauthorized transmission in progress." Uhura reported.

"Incoming or outgoing?" Kirk asked.

She couldn't identify a transmission source and none of their communications antennae were in use. "It's incoming, sir."

"Don't all incoming messages come through you?"

"Yes, sir." she said, bent over her console and working her fingers over the flat surface. "But this signal has bypassed standard communication protocols. Instead of being routed to the bridge, it's…"

"It's what, Lieutenant?" Kirk demanded, rising out of his chair and looking over her shoulder.

"It's being directed to another location. I can't tell where but it's definitely being received somewhere on the ship."

"Trace it, then!"

"I'm trying!" she exclaimed, her hands flying over her console. "This is a very advanced piece of computing and it's rotating frequencies faster than I can-" Her whole body stilled and she slumped back in her chair. "I'm sorry, Captain. The signal has been terminated."

"Lieutenant Uhura, I suggest you review the sensor logs of this incident and attempt to predict the pattern of rotation." Spock said. "If this breach occurs again, we will need to be able to trace the signal to a specific computer terminal."

"Spock." Kirk said, waving him over near the turbo-lift doors. He continued in a hushed-tone. "Speak to the senior staff and all department heads. I want to know who received that message and what it was about."

"Understood." Spock nodded, moving into the turbo-lift.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"Oi! Where the bloody hell have you been, Bonnie? I'm starvin' over here!" Scotty yelled across the mess hall as his sister entered the room.

"Sorry, Monty, I got held up." Bonnie smiled, ordering a caesar salad from the replicator.

"Really? A salad?" Scotty said in mock-disappointment, coming up behind her and ordering a juicy steak.

"We can't all have the metabolism of a teenage boy." Bonnie teased. "You haven't gained a pound since I last saw you!"

"No, but _you've_ gained an accent since I last saw you." Scotty shot back. "What the hell have you done with your rollin' R's and your Aye's and Och's and Canna's, eh, lass?"

"I already told you, we moved to North America. I guess it just weakened over time." she shrugged.

"Well, that won't do! We'll have to sing some of the old drinkin' songs and get you back in your right speech!" he winked.

"Oh, no!" she warned. "Last time I saw you drunk, you puked all over my blouse, thank you very much."

"I was a green lad of twenty! I assure you, my aim has improved and I swear on pain of death that I'll spew in the toilet next time."

"I should hope so, Mr. Scott." Spock said with a raised eyebrow, standing behind the unaware Chief Engineer. His gaze lingered on Bonnie for a moment before snapping back to awareness and shifting to her brother. "A word, Chief? Please excuse us, Dr. Scott."

Bonnie laughed uproariously at the Vulcan's impeccable timing while Scotty followed the First Officer with a charming smile, taking the whole thing in stride. They stood in a corner of the mess hall, speaking in whispers. Her humor died in an instant. Both men spoke seriously and Bonnie became paranoid, though her demeanor was as calm and friendly as ever. The conversation ended as her brother gave a solemn nod to the Commander. He returned to their table and cut into his steak.

"What was that all about?" she asked casually.

"I don't know, some unexplained transmission signal. They don't know who sent it, who received it, or what it's about, yet they expect me to question my staff about it! If ya ask me, Uhura's got her panties in a twist over nothin' but galactic white noise." Scotty shrugged.

Bonnie continued eating her salad and listening to her brother's ramblings, but inside she was panicking. It was too early in the mission for them to be onto her already! She'd prefer they didn't blow her cover at all, but they absolutely could not discover her before she discovered the traitor! Titan would be sending her the background checks tomorrow, but she'd have to keep their conversation extremely brief and resort to radio silence after that. She wouldn't be able to report her findings, receive instruction or have the support of her team. If she wasn't alone out here before, she certainly was now.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Your thoughts are precious to me. I sometimes put my reviews up on my computer and just stroke the screen, whispering, "my precioussss".**


	4. Last Resort

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. Oh, and I don't own Muppets either, lol.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Bonnie paced like a madwoman in her room, waiting for Titan to contact her. She was fully aware of how sophisticated their signal was, but if the crew had managed to detect it in the first place, they might manage to get ahead of the rotating frequency and trace it back to her computer. She'd just started to chew her fingernails into nothingness when her screen blinked to life.

"Tethys, I have those-"

"Titan, quick, upload the material immediately! The crew detected your last transmission and they may be able to trace this one." Bonnie blurted out in a rush.

Titan hit a few buttons on a console out of the picture and turned back to her, urgency laced in his tone. "We can't risk another message. You're on your own, Tethys. I hereby authorize you to use any and all means you deem necessary for catching the traitor. Good luck."

He terminated the transmission and Bonnie bounced nervously, waiting for the background checks to download. It was an unbearably long two minutes, but she finally had them all. She transferred them onto a PADD, making sure they were protected by a password and multiple layers of encryption. Once the information was safe, she slumped against the wall, sliding down slowly until her knees were against her chest. Digging the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, all the breath in her body left in a great _whoosh_. She had the weight of the world, of multiple worlds, of the whole galaxy, on her shoulders and the only clue she had to smoking out a traitor to the Federation was a collection of background checks. They were just supposed to be the first step of her investigation, to be followed up by a hell of a lot more support! She glanced down at the PADD and hoped to God there was something helpful in there.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Spock was unsettled. For the past few days, whenever he'd had a moment alone, his thoughts invariably turned to Dr. Scott and his incredible meditation. Her voice had guided him to an extraordinary new understanding of himself. The entire experience was as intimate and profound as a mind-meld; it felt like a joining between his human side and Vulcan side, between the emotional and the logical. He was able to explore both without abandoning either. But as enlightened as the encounter made him feel, he was still distressed by his constant thoughts about the woman who induced it. Vulcans did _not_ obsess – they were far too controlled for that – and yet his eyes searched her out without his brain's approval. His feet took him past her office and quarters in hopes of seeing her, despite the inefficiency of those routes. He found her mind intriguing and, despite his best efforts to control the carnality of his thoughts, found her body highly attractive. Vulcan women were tall, sturdy and dark, but Spock found Bonnie's petite figure and fair coloring to be very alluring…disturbingly so, as a matter of fact.

It was because of his discreet observations that he noticed a subtle but definite change in her. Bonnie smiled as kindly as before, but her mouth was pinched slightly at the corners. She was constantly hunched over a single PADD. Her bubbly, vibrant personality seemed somehow muted and every mealtime consisted of her pushing food around on the plate without actually eating. She had taken to hiding the dark circles under her eyes with make-up, but would often sigh tiredly and rub at her eyes, removing the cover-up without realizing it. Patients were still impacted greatly by sessions with her, but he could sense her enthusiasm for her work had lessened significantly. He had grown accustomed to her high-spirits and felt a dull sensation of loss when looking at her tired, bloodshot eyes.

Unfortunately, his study of her yielded no insight on what might have precipitated this change and it was slight enough that no one else seemed to have noticed. Crew evaluations, duty rosters and the like were his responsibility and an issue with any crew member could affect ship performance. Perhaps he should inform the Captain? Then again, her fatigue and lack of appetite could indicate a medical condition. Would it be appropriate to voice his concerns to Doctor McCoy? Although, as her brother, shouldn't Mr. Scott be made aware of her troubles? All had merit, but Bonnie might resent him for bringing her personal affairs to the attention of others.

Deciding to handle the situation personally, his posture straightened in determination. "Computer, location of Dr. Bonnie Scott."

"B deck, section 35: Counselor's office." came the disembodied, feminine voice.

Spock set off to her office with a steady stride. He schooled his features into their default setting of neutral and emotionless. He was intrigued by her ability to read him so easily, but also somewhat affronted. He was a Vulcan and his emotions were intensely private; a human should not be able to sense them. As he neared her office, he pushed his distraction aside. The red light outside her door was not illuminated, indicating she was not with a patient. He pressed a button and her voice called for him to enter.

"Spock!" she said in surprise, hitting a few buttons on her PADD and activating the encryption protocols. "What can I do for you?"

"I am here to inquire if there is something I can do for you." Spock said.

"I don't understand." Bonnie replied, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I have noticed a shift in your patterns of behavior. You seem distracted and your stress levels have increased. Your sleep cycles, appetite and focus have suffered as a result. Is there an issue I should be made aware of?" Spock asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch.

Bonnie gave a strained smile. "Thank you for your concern, Spock. I really do appreciate it, but you know how it is, starting a new job. There's so much work to be done and not enough hours in the day."

"If your schedule is too demanding, I can reduce your shifts." Spock offered.

She laughed lightly and put her hand over his. "That's so sweet of you Spock, but I'll manage."

A faint green hue rose in his cheeks at their contact. He was unaccustomed to physical contact, let alone physical affection. He removed his hand slowly, not wanting to offend her and stood rigidly. "Well, if there is nothing further, I will take my leave."

"Wait!" Bonnie called as he reached the door. She'd been consumed by those damned reports for days and her brain was close to burn-out. A brief respite might be good for her and she liked Spock's company. Bonnie searched her mind for something to talk about. She patted the seat next to her and smiled easily. "We haven't talked since you last came to my office. How have you been?"

"I have been well." Spock informed her. Knowing humans usually expected more information when posing that simple question, he continued. "We are on course for an uncharted solar system with three Menshara-class planets in orbit. The Captain has been displaying child-like enthusiasm at the prospect finding an inhabited world and the crew is hopeful for a first-contact situation."

"That would certainly boost crew morale." Bonnie agreed. She cleared her throat and continued casually. "Any progress on that mystery signal?"

"You're aware of the transmission?" Spock asked warily.

"It's hardly a secret." she said lightly. "The crew has been questioned about it."

Spock conceded the point. "We detected a second transmission with an identical signal but the mathematics and layers of encryption imbedded in the carrier wave are too complex even for Lieutenant Uhura. She's turned over all data regarding the transmission to your brother. His grasp of advanced equations and quantum mechanics should be sufficient to trace the signal to the receiving computer."

Bonnie froze. Her eyes went wide with stark panic. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Monty could break their signal. Hell, he could run circles around the entire tech team that had developed it! In a split-second, all the consequences, scenarios and possible solutions to this situation poured through her mind. He would discover her; that was a fact. He'd be obligated to inform the captain, she'd be imprisoned in the brig, exposed to the traitor and lose all hope of completing her assignment. Or, he wouldn't tell the captain, cover for her, compromise his own career and never trust her again.

Or…

Or she could take control of the situation before she was caught.

"Dr. Scott?" Spock called, shaking her shoulder. "Bonnie! Are you well?"

She snapped back to awareness and spoke lowly, her tone grave. "Spock, please go get the captain. I need him in my office and I need you to be discreet about bringing him here."

"Bonnie, what is this about?" Spock demanded.

But she was already running out the door, calling over her shoulder. "I have to find my brother! Just bring him here!"

Bonnie ran through the halls, forcing her body to a sedate walk when she saw another crew member and speeding up again when they were out of sight. The turbo-lift mechanisms must have been coated with molasses because the trip seemed to last an eternity. Finally, the doors opened with a hiss and a ding, revealing the engineering section. She craned her neck, peering this way and that looking for her brother. She finally spotted him stroking the warp-core casing and murmuring to it softly.

She grabbed his wrist and started dragging him out of engineering. "Oi! I was havin' a heart-to-heart with my lady, Bonnie! Let go!"

He wrenched himself out of her insanely strong grip and gave her a questioning look, which she returned with a threatening, narrowed glare. "I am not above telling people that you made out with Cousin Maisie at our family reunion _and _that you wanted to be a Muppet until you were fifteen. Follow me or I make a ship-wide announcement."

He looked at her suspiciously, but could tell she was deadly serious. Never taking his eyes off her, he called to a crew member behind him. "Marshall! I'm leavin' my baby in your hands while I'm gone. Treat her well and don't blow anythin' up."

"Finally." Bonnie muttered, rolling her eyes. She all but shoved him into the turbo-lift and didn't say a word on the way despite his incessant questions. They entered her office to find Kirk pacing angrily and Spock sitting stiffly on her couch.

"What the hell is going on?" Kirk demanded. Bonnie ignored him.

"Computer, seal the doors and disengage all sensors to this room." As soon as the computer reported her orders had been carried out, she turned back to the men. "Have a seat, gentlemen. We have things to discuss."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**I heart reviews and Zachary Quinto. Since I'm not likely to get Zachary Quinto…fill the hole in my heart with your reviews :)**


	5. The Truth

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I would pay good money for any one of the male leads, if only for an hour.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"How far have you gotten on that signal, Monty?" Bonnie asked, taking a seat on the couch opposite the three men.

"What does tha' have to do with anythin'?"

"Just answer." she replied tiredly.

"I've broken the first two layers of encryption, but there are at least two more." he told her.

"Actually, there are three more." she corrected, ignoring their suspicious looks. "I was the one who received the message."

"If it was a personal message, why wasn't it routed through proper channels?" Kirk asked.

"It wasn't personal…not exactly. It was a communiqué from my handler." she sighed, resigning herself to total honesty. "I'm not a member of Star Fleet. I'm a field operative with an organization that, quite frankly, doesn't exist."

"So…you're a spy." Kirk summed up, his voice saturated with a loaded calm. The expression on her brother's face broke something inside her; he looked crushed and horrified and sickened, whether from her profession or her dishonesty, she didn't know.

She swallowed tightly and glanced away. "It's an antiquated term, but yeah. Espionage didn't die out when the nations of Earth united; it went galactic. Due to the covert nature of our work, I can't go into details but the agency I work for protects Federation interests."

"If I'm not mistaken, isn't that the purpose of Star Fleet?" Spock inquired.

She gave a short chuckle. "Protecting Federations citizens is worst-case scenario for you, but our day-to-day work. Your focus is on exploration and peaceful contact, but diplomacy isn't exactly in our play book. I guess you could say we…expedite solutions."

"Bonnie." Scotty choked out, looking at her uncomprehendingly. "Wha' have ya gotten yourself in to?"

"And what the fucking hell are you doing on MY SHIP?" Kirk finally exploded.

"I'm not the one you need to worry about, Captain." she said sharply. "There's a traitor on-board. Details about the Nero Incident have been leaked to Unfriendlies all over the quadrant: the Orion Syndicate, the Klingon Empire, the Cardassians, the Romulans, you name it. We have reason to believe that this…this _war profiteer _may also be in possession of the formula for Red Matter and is planning to sell it to enemies of the Federation. Now, that material was classified from the moment this ship landed in space-dock and we've cleared all crew that disembarked. That means our turncoat is someone currently serving on Enterprise. I've been sent to identify and neutralize the traitor."

"Wait. You're telling me they sent _you_," Kirk spoke skeptically, gesturing up and down her slim, delicate frame. "To catch a traitor to the Federation?"

She flared her nostrils and her mouth pulled down in a scowl. "Piss off, Kirk. I'm not as defensively trained as some agents, I'm not as technologically savvy as others and I'm not as physically strong as most but the skills I do have are the ones needed for this mission!"

"To what skills are you referring?" Spock asked.

"Well our _beloved_ Captain just demonstrated one." she said bitterly. "No one ever suspects me of being capable of this kind of work. If it weren't so damned useful, I'd be insulted. And I have some…unique abilities that will aid me in discovering the traitor." She shot a significant look at her brother. He looked back with uncertainty, but only a moment later, epiphany was written all over his face.

"Oh my god, you don't mean…" he breathed in shock, coming to sit beside her.

She took his hand and nodded. "Yeah."

"What? What abilities? What the hell are you two talking about?" Kirk demanded.

"When I was a kid, I would sometimes…_know_ things. I just thought I was good at reading people; my family did too." Bonnie started, Scotty nodding beside her. "But someone else in our lives recognized it for what it really was: an underdeveloped form of extra-sensory perception. He recruited me when I was seventeen and I underwent exhaustive mental training for two years. E.S.P. comes in many different forms but mine manifests as extreme empathy, even more pervasive than a Betazoid's. While they can sense the emotions of others, I can also sense the memories and thoughts attached to those emotions. There's not really a word for my talents, but it's basically empathy with a touch of back-door telepathy."

"I was unaware humans had abilities like this." Spock said, shocked.

"Generally speaking, we don't. Genuine E.S.P. is extremely rare and even though it's been studied extensively, the causes of it are still a mystery. Certain parts of my brain are hyper-stimulated, but for no apparent reason other than I'm wired that way."

"And that's supposed to help you catch this sonofabitch?" Kirk asked.

Bonnie gave a wicked, slightly frightening smile. "That…and you three. I can't risk contacting my handler again. Too many people know about our signal and any further messages could compromise him; no need to blow his cover all to hell, too. Under normal circumstances I would never reveal myself but I'm alone out here and I need support. Congratulations, boys, you've just been recruited into my service."

There was a moment of loaded silence, which Kirk broke by clapping his hands and rubbing them together eagerly. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he gave her a flirtatious smile. "Well, consider me willing and able to service you anytime, my bonny Scot."

Despite her best efforts to bite down on a smile, Bonnie burst out laughing. Neither Spock nor Scotty were the least bit amused, but Kirk and Bonnie couldn't contain themselves. Bonnie giggled until her cheeks hurt and Kirk leaned over the arm of the couch as he laughed. It wouldn't have been so funny even a day ago, but there was an unspoken understanding in that moment; with the weight of their shared mission, something had changed. Both knew his proposition was just flirtatious banter without any seriousness behind it and were glad to indulge in a little comic relief.

"Thanks for the offer, love." Bonnie said cheekily, a twinge of her Scottish roots coming out. "But from what I've heard, you'd get lock-jaw before I'd get satisfaction."

"Oh, honey, I'd press your button and watch you self-destruct." Kirk drawled seductively.

"I'm sure I could make you blow first." Bonnie shot back coyly.

"For the love of God, no more!" Scotty begged, one hand clutching his stomach and the other covering his mouth.

"I must concur with Mr. Scott." Spock said coolly.

"Oh, would you guys relax!" Bonnie laughed. "This kind of work is extremely taxing and all operatives have to find ways of coping with it. Spock will probably meditate and Monty'll make love to his engines. And then there's Jim, who will try and fail to beat my witty, sexual repartee."

"Is that a challenge?" Kirk grinned. "It is _so _on, you wicked pixie."

"Surely there is a more effective way to channel the stress of covert operations." Spock insisted, quelling the jealousy rising in his throat like bile.

"We could always skip the banter and move this to the bedroom." Kirk announced with an easy smile. "I know that always relieves _my_ tension."

"And that's all I can take." Scotty drawled, moving out of the room. He turned back before exiting. "Just remember the warp plasma, Kirk. Accidents happen all the time in engineering."

Bonnie watched her brother go before turning back to the senior officers. "What was that all about?"

"Jim's disregard for the rules always has consequences. Perhaps those consequences will be negative for once and he might actually learn something." Spock said coldly, standing stiffly and making sure his tumultuous emotions were barricaded behind every mental barrier he possessed. After all, he was in the presence of an empath and he didn't want her, of all people, reading _these_ emotions. "I must return to duty, excuse me."

"Okay, now what was _that_ about?" Bonnie asked Kirk, before muttering, "Damn Vulcans and their stupid mental discipline."

Kirk watched his first officer with a keen eye and excused himself to Bonnie without answering her question, claiming he needed to return to duty too. He jogged down the corridor and caught up to Spock at the turbo-lift. He squeezed in just before the doors closed and stood side by side with his silently stewing friend. "I don't want to embarrass you, buddy, but your emotions were kind of hanging out back there. Something on your mind?"

"Nothing I wish to discuss." Spock said curtly, eyes facing forward.

Kirk hit the emergency stop button on the turbo-lift and rounded on Spock. "I don't know who shit in your plomeek broth, but you have that same pissed-off vibe that you had right before you nearly choked me to death. If I'm about to get my ass kicked, I think I have the right to know why!"

"I will not assault you, Jim. I simply have no desire to engage in an intimate discussion of my emotional state. For someone so averse to therapy, I expected you to understand that."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I was too quick to judge. My session wasn't so bad. Actually, Bonnie was -" Kirk cut himself off as he was hit by a sudden epiphany; he gawked at his first officer before a slow smile spread over his face. "Holy shit. That's it, isn't it? You like Bonnie! This isn't your 'pissed-off' vibe; it's your 'jealous-possessive-primitively Vulcan' vibe! I was talking about sexing her up and now you're jealous! Oh, this is fantastic!"

No one could damage Spock's calm quite as much as Jim, as evidenced by the vein jumping in his neck. "Must I resort to physical violence in order to secure your silence?"

"Don't you get it?" Kirk asked enthusiastically, gripping his shoulders. "I didn't want to say anything, but we've all been worried about you! You've closed up even more than usual since Nero and you spend every spare moment meditating, but the past few days have been a total turn-around! Bonnie had a hand in that and she'll be good for you!"

"How exactly will _your_ mate be good for me?" Spock demanded.

"My mate?" Kirk repeated confusedly. "Spock, there's nothing going on with me and Bonnie except a harmless game of wit! Yeah, she's hot but her pants are locked up tighter than Fort Knox where I'm concerned. But you and her? You two make sense! Sure, your total opposites, but I think you'd be great together."

Spock was struck silent by his friend's unexpected support, but shook his head thinking of all that was at stake. "It would be irresponsible of me to pursue Dr. Scott given our new assignment. Being emotionally compromised as a Star Fleet officer was dangerous enough, but losing control on an operation of this gravity could be disastrous."

"Spock, this is one area of life where logic won't help. If anything, it'll hold you back! There are always reasons, good reasons, not to chase a woman and all the reasons telling you to go for it have nothing to do with logic! Come on, man, you're half-human! Let the human side take over for this one."

"Jim, I do not suffer from split-personality disorder." Spock deadpanned.

"I'm just saying maybe you should listen to your heart. Or at least your balls." Kirk paused for a moment and then shrugged. "Either way, I'd bet my rank that Bonnie's the end-point."

"I will not invest any more in this horrendous conversation. Whether I choose to initiate a relationship with Dr. Scott or not is none of your concern." Spock said tiredly, restarting the turbo-lift. He placed a hand on his captain's shoulder. "Please, my friend, respect my wishes. Unlike humans, romantic interest does not strike Vulcans often and it never strikes lightly; this is a difficult and uncertain time for me. I must first understand my own mind on this subject before acting."

Kirk looked petulant and put-out, but blinked up from under his long lashes and smirked. "You'll tell me if you make a move, right?"

"You will be the first, Jim." Spock's lips turned up at the corner and he walked onto the bridge.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Tell me where you'd like this plot to go, tell me what you think of this chapter (or of the story in general), tell me anything you like! I'm open to constructive criticism, flames and I suppose, if you're so inclined, I'm open to disgusting amounts of adoring praise and monetary gifts :) **


	6. Unmasked

**Disclaimer: alas, I own nothing.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers, those that have tagged my story, and my readers! You're making the story flow!**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Bonnie mentally reviewed everything she knew about Lieutenant Aaron Pearce before her session with him. Star Fleet's background checks barely scratched the surface, but those utilized by her agency were thorough to the point of ridiculousness. Not only did they gather records of all residence, employment, on and off-world travel, funds, education, training, medical history and hobbies of the individual in question, but also those of their immediate family. Reviewing background checks was mockingly called 'skin scrubbing' among her colleagues, because so many layers had to be scoured off of a person's life to get at the heart of the matter. Not to mention, many operatives would prefer having their skin scrubbed off to enduring the pure torture of such tedious paper-pushing. But, more often than not, all that seemingly extraneous information yielded something important and it was no different in the case of Lt. Pearce.

His personal record was squeaky clean at first glance, but his father's life put a shady spin on the son's activities. Brock Pearce had a criminal record for piracy and had developed influential friends in high and low places. He acquired suppliers, clients, and crew among many species and his work spanned a dozen or more sectors. Pearce the Senior was extremely cautious and was caught in the act by sheer dumb luck – a case of right place, right time on Federation law enforcement's part. Aaron lived with his mother on Barisa Prime until the age of thirteen. After that, he moved to Holna Five for a boarding school specializing in warp theory…she found it very interesting that his father was also imprisoned on this planet. There were no direct records suggesting he ever communicated with his father, but prison logs had a frequent visitor – one Vincent Mathis – on record, claiming to be Brock's nephew. Brock had no nephew.

Aaron Pearce had motive –he'd lived his whole life on remote planets with shaky Federation loyalties and his father detested the Federation after his incarceration. He had means – if he learned the tricks of his father's trade and was in good standing with his old contacts, he could easily sell the information. And he had opportunity – as a high ranking officer in engineering and very intelligent man, he could gain access to all data regarding the incident.

Through her exhaustive 'skin scrubbing' over the past few days, she'd discovered that several of the crew had damning skeletons in their closets but none were quite as serious as this. In all likelihood, the traitor was entering her crosshairs.

Her door chimed and she primed herself for the session as she called for Lt. Pearce to enter. The man strode in confidently and had a charming, charismatic presence. But he immediately set her teeth on edge. He had wholesome, boy-next-door good looks, but blond hair, bright green eyes and a wide smile did nothing to improve his standing with her. Everyone has a dark streak in them and his was no more malevolent or prominent than anyone else's. He wasn't a sadist and his mind didn't hum with evil intent, like one would expect from a profiteering traitor. No, what really worried her was his unfailingly selfish approach to life. His ego-centricity and self-interest permeated his entire being. Nothing mattered in this galaxy other than him; the well-being of others was of no consequence. He couldn't identify with other people or empathize with their pain; if their pain equaled his gain, then their tragedy was a good thing…period. It was narcissism bordering on anti-social personality disorder – also known as being a sociopath.

To his credit, he masked his diseased personality well, under his magnetic appeal and handsome face. He was the type of man that could be exposed as a serial killer, but his neighbors and family would defend him to the end, claiming he was such a sweet boy and could never hurt anyone. Only someone totally lacking in empathy could sell the formula for Red Matter for personal gain, risking the future itself in the process. Meeting him only strengthened her belief that she was staring into the eyes of a traitor.

Her critical analysis of him never showed on her face. She smiled brightly at him and motioned to the couch opposite her. "Please, have a seat, Lieutenant."

"No need for formality." Aaron said jovially, taking a seat. "You're about to peek inside my head, Doctor! Just call me Aaron."

"Then you must call me Bonnie." she replied easily. "I must say, it's a relief to have a patient who's not fighting me tooth and nail. You're comfortable with therapy, then?"

"An hour alone to talk with a beautiful lady? I'd have to be crazy to fight this!" he laughed.

Her smile was slightly strained as she hummed in agreement. She couldn't find it in her to laugh with him, considering he _was_ crazy. "Well then, shall we get started? I assume you know why Star Fleet mandated these sessions."

Aaron sobered and nodded solemnly. "Because of the Nero Incident."

"And the tragedy on Vulcan." Bonnie couldn't help adding. She tilted her head to the side and observed Aaron. There were many methods for prompting therapeutic discussion, but she preferred meditation when the patient was either extremely closed to the idea of therapy, like Spock, or pathologically dishonest, like Aaron. In guided meditation, Aaron's guard would be down. There would be no need to lie because he would be alone inside his own mind, reliving the events. Unbeknownst to him, though, she would concentrate her entire being on picking up the emotions and thoughts he experienced during the Nero Incident. Such focus would take its toll on her, but it was necessary at this point.

"Aaron, I'd like to try something with you. Computer, dim lights. Now, close your eyes." Bonnie ordered gently. "I'm going to guide you in meditation. I want you to concentrate on your emotions and senses as I talk you through the events of the Nero Incident. Remember what you felt, remember what you saw. You don't have to speak these private things to me, but confront them in your mind. Your feelings during this time, no matter what they may have been, are valid and they reside in the core of your being. Call on them as you remember."

She watched Aaron's body go slack and his head loll slowly, hitting the back of the couch. Many patients had told her she had a soothing, calm voice and she was pleased to see it relax her current patient. She began to describe the Nero Incident, adding descriptive details to jumpstart his emotional memory. Starting at the mad rush to the ships, her voice grew strained as her narrative progressed to Nero's trap at Vulcan. Her stomach clenched and spasmed, her face went cold and clammy. With her total perception focused on him, his emotions invaded her. Against her will, she felt his sickening emotions become a part of her and became incapable of distinguishing herself from Aaron Pearce. There were dangerous consequences to her gift when it was applied fully, not the least of which was the violent illness that accompanied losing herself in the emotions of a polluted mind.

The office she'd meticulously decorated faded from vision as she was dropped into the lieutenant's memory. His recollection of the engineering section during the event was grainy, distorted and severely battle damaged. Smoke from busted electrical equipment filled the room; every face was covered in sweat, lacerations and fear. Bonnie turned toward the warp core and caught sight of her reflection in an inoperative, black console. Short blond hair fell into her eyes with boyish charm, sharp green eyes peered back at her and a five-o'clock shadow covered her jaw. The mirror image wasn't of her, but of Aaron Pearce. She was walking in his footsteps, feeling his feelings and had no control over his…her…their actions.

The scene moved forward as a huge blast rocked the room and several bodies flew through the air. As screams of agony and moans of the dying filled the air, Aaron was overwhelmed with mortal terror and concern. Not for the Chief Engineer lying dead three feet from him or the anonymous female crewmember with her glassy eyes staring vacantly in his direction, but for himself. While his fellow engineers continued to perform their duties with admirable bravery in the face of unimaginable horror and fear, Aaron wedged himself between the bulkhead and a fallen beam. He knew he was a coward but didn't attach any shame to that label. In his mind, being a coward was admirable because he was intelligent enough to recognize his life as his number one priority. Meanwhile, all these others were risking their skin for some intangible ideal. Idiots.

He stayed in his make-shift alcove until the noise calmed down and the smoke cleared. As he emerged, every screen and console in the room was now replaced with a live view-screen image. Someone on the bridge, most likely Uhura, was broadcasting the events all over the ship. The surface of Vulcan was being devastated. Even from space, the seismic and volcanic activity was not only visible, but blatantly clear. And then, something changed. The surface started to crumble and collapse. First a small area, but it spread planet-wide like destructive ripples. It started to cave in on itself. Engineering was deadly quiet; even the machines had stopped their sparking and hissing. Tears were running silently down cheeks, hands flew to mouths in utter horror. One man fainted and another threw up. The arid, proud planet was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by dark nothingness.

Aaron stood transfixed by the image on the screen. His first thought wasn't horror at the devastation or shocked sorrow at the six billion lives lost, but amazement at the power of the weapon and the almost instant recognition of opportunity. Such instantaneous, total destruction was a gold mine. The Orion Syndicate had a market for everything, including information; they would pay any amount he asked for this weapon. They'd have buyers from every species panting after it. Why not let them do all the dirty work? Sell it once, buy a moon with the profits and live out his days in the disgustingly wealthy lap of luxury!

At this thought, Bonnie began to fight with everything she had to escape from his mind. Inside her mind, she was screaming and crying and begging to any god that might be listening to let her out. But the memory didn't stop and neither did Aaron's thoughts and plans for Red Matter. Bonnie became so lost in the unrelenting greed, perverse justifications, and callous disregard for life that warped his mind so terribly, she fell silent. Her voice no longer guided Aaron through the events; she didn't think she could stomach any more. He came out of his mediation. As he snapped out of his recollections, she too came back to awareness.

Their eyes met and nausea rolled through her system. Her vision clouded and she stumbled to her feet.

"Hey, are you alright?" Aaron asked curiously, seeing tremors rack her small body and watching her beyond-pale face take on a sickly green tint.

Bonnie shook her head and fought for control of her body as she tripped out the door, mumbling something like, "You're dismissed, Lieutenant".

She missed his eyes narrowing suspiciously at her strange behavior.

Oh god, she was going to be sick. Her breath was coming in choked gasps. Sweat dampened her hair and made the strawberry-blond waves stick to her pale face. She ran her hands along the corridor walls for balance as she staggered blindly down the hall. Apparently, her wanderings weren't directionless; she came upon a door she recognized – Spock's quarters. Pressing the call button anxiously, everything seemed to tunnel. Sound was blocked by a persistent buzz, her eyes passed over the gray door sluggishly, and she tasted the vomit rising in her throat. The door opened with a hiss and Bonnie braced her hands on either side of the door, hanging her head.

Surprise was plastered all over Spock's face as he took in Bonnie's clearly ill form. With unexpected strength, she pushed his shock-immobilized body aside and rushed to the bathroom, emptying her stomach. He was at her side in a moment, sweeping the sweat-soaked hair out of her face and holding it as she continued to alternate between dry-heaving and vomiting. Spock removed his communicator.

"Spock to Doctor McCoy."

"Go ahead." McCoy responded.

"Report to my quarters immediately with a med-kit. Spock out." Spock closed the channel, not wanting to elaborate over the comm. system.

He placed a comforting hand on her back, but could sense her weakening. She didn't have the energy to heave anymore and was reduced to gagging pathetically. Vulcan physiology was extremely resilient and illness was rare among his people. Perhaps that was why he felt so helpless when faced with her serious and unexplained symptoms. Concern was apparent on his scrunched brow and in the frightened worry in his eyes. The way her vibrant presence permeated a room and brightened it made her seem so much larger than the frail frame in front of him. Her tiny body finally sagged around the toilet as she passed out. He sat on the cold tile of his bathroom floor and gathered her onto his lap, waiting for Doctor McCoy.

Logic, it seemed, had abandoned him. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to take her to sickbay. What if this was a grave illness and there was nothing he could do for her? No, no, it was better to stay here where he could hold her and assure himself that she was alive and safe. Everything would be alright as long as he could feel her light breath through his uniform shirt and could feel the weight of her on his body. She would be alright. She would. She had to be.

Spock picked up muttering from inside his quarters but didn't glance up from Bonnie's still face.

"Damn that Vulcan prick. He calls me here like I'm his god-damned man-servant and doesn't even have the decency to let me in. Where the hell are you, you pointy-eared bastard?"

"Bathroom." Spock called.

McCoy charged into the bathroom, intent on tearing the Vulcan a new asshole, but came to an abrupt halt when he saw the scene. For a moment, he just stood there. He didn't know what shocked him more: seeing Bonnie unconscious or the fact that Spock had a woman in his quarters. McCoy recovered quickly, trying to pull Bonnie from Spock's arms. It was a flashback to sandbox days as the two grown men played tug-of-war, with Bonnie being the rag-doll they were fighting over. Finally, McCoy threw up his hands in frustration.

"Give me the girl or put her on the bed, but either way, get the hell out of my way." McCoy demanded.

"You can treat her here." Spock said firmly, refusing to release Bonnie.

"Psychotic elf." McCoy grumbled, getting out his medical tri-corder. "What happened?"

"She was violently ill and then passed out, presumably from exhaustion."

"Oh yeah? Where'd you get your medical degree from? Maybe you should leave the diagnosing to me, smartass." McCoy muttered before getting back to business. "What was she doing before she became sick?"

"I do not know." Spock replied.

"Well then who the hell should I ask? She was in your quarters, wasn't she?" McCoy accused.

"She came to my quarters already ill. When I answered the door, she immediately ran to the bathroom and vomited."

"Always knew you were a ladies' man." McCoy snorted, before running his tri-corder over her chest and abdomen. "No viruses, no bacterial infections, no parasites…whoa!"

McCoy paused as he leveled the tri-corder over Bonnie's head. He ran the scanner over and around her skull several times. "This can't be right!"

"What is it?" Spock asked, with more anxiety in his voice than he cared to admit.

"Her brain chemistry is…is…impossible! Acetylcholine and dopamine levels are through the roof but her serotonin levels have tanked. Half her brain is lit up like a god-damned supernova when only 7 or 8 percent of it should be active at one time! Jesus Christ, she's gonna seize if it keeps on like this!" McCoy worked frantically, injecting her with anti-nausea and anti-seizure medication, artificial serotonin, and the neurotransmitter GABA to calm her brain activity. When he'd done all he could, he turned his wrath on Spock. "What the hell did you do? I swear to god, if you pulled any of that Vulcan voodoo mind-meld bullshit on her-"

"I did nothing, Doctor!" Spock insisted. "But…I would not trust your findings. Bonnie's brain does not fall within the norm even under the best of conditions, let alone under duress. It is logical to assume there would be difficulties in determining when an abnormal brain is even more abnormal than usual, especially without a basis for comparison."

"How the hell do you know what her brain is like?" McCoy asked. "I haven't given her a preliminary physical yet and Star Fleet Medical is taking their sweet time getting her records to me."

"It was a matter discussed in confidence, Doctor."

"Fine, keep your secrets. It's only her life at stake." he said sarcastically.

"Shhh." Bonnie shushed them weakly from Spock's lap. Her consciousness came close to the surface but she immediately blacked out again; the strain was too much to bear.

McCoy scanned her again. "She's stabilized, but her system is exhausted. She'll need to rest up for the next couple days. Haul her up, Spock, and bring her to sickbay."

Spock didn't move. "Since her condition is connected to that…private matter, perhaps it would be best to keep her off the record and out of sickbay."

McCoy gave a small smile at the protective Vulcan. "You want her to stay here."

"I can go several days without rest and will call you at the first sign of distress." Spock promised.

The doctor paused for a moment before tossing Spock a hypospray. "Give her the anti-nausea medication every twelve hours, just in case. Call me when she regains consciousness; I want to give her a once-over. And for the love of god, if Scotty finds out about this, keep my name out of it and take whatever he dishes out like a man."

"Thank you, McCoy." Spock said sincerely.

"Anytime." McCoy grunted back, before throwing the Vulcan a good-natured smirk. "Green-blooded hobgoblin."

After he left, Spock finally rose off the tiled floor with Bonnie secure against his chest. He laid her on his bed and sat on the edge. As he watched her, he was completely aware that she was in his sanctuary, against his sheets, and it was like the meditation all over again. But instead of focusing on the ocean painting, he was focused solely on Bonnie Scott. This meditation did not bring control or peace, but visions of a future. Their future, together. The urge to be with her had been sparked in their first meeting, but it had grown from a curious pondering to a dire need. He needed her. He needed to know her in every possible way: as a friend, a confidante, a mate, and a life-partner. As the realization washed over him and he concentrated on the sound of Bonnie's steady breathing, his eyes closed in serenity.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**I loved getting your ideas and suggestions for the story last time, thanks to those who submitted reviews like that. It really got the juices flowing! Drop me a line and tell me what you think!**


	7. Melting

**Disclaimer: love it, want it, desperate for it…but no dice.**

**Your reviews were fantastic! I'm glad you liked the last chapter, hope this one satisfies. Time to kick the romance up a notch…the intrigue too.**

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Her awareness started to radiate out to her surroundings instead of remaining shrouded in fuzzy black fatigue. Her face scrunched up and she groaned, wanting to retreat back into that painless, silent place in her mind. She felt something soft and warm run through her hair and over her forehead. Bonnie maneuvered herself closer to that comforting touch, brought her arms around a firm body and breathed in that person's hot, slightly spicy scent. Bouncing her head this way and that trying to find a comfortable position, she finally gave it up as a failure and cracked her eyes open.

Blinking up at Spock's serene face, Bonnie sighed contentedly. Closing her eyes again, she rested her head in his lap and let a small smile play on her lips. She must be dreaming, if Spock was touching her and holding her so freely. If her subconscious was kind enough to give her this indulgent little fantasy, she certainly wasn't going to fight it. Her work had completely dominated her time on Enterprise, but even one second of free time was enough to have her thinking about the stoic, handsome, but oddly caring Vulcan. He fascinated her and considering her gift, that was a rare and enjoyable circumstance. Humans were too open, their feelings spilling all over her, making the air around her thick with their desires and dramas. But he was the calm in that storm of emotion and she sought him out, wrapping herself in his controlled presence.

His fingers skimmed over her cheek. "Bonnie?"

Bonnie didn't respond, but pushed down on his chest so he was lying beside her. Curling around him, she buried her face into his chest and moaned at the absolute rightness of it all. Why couldn't reality ever be this good? Why did she have to sacrifice even the possibility of them together? She truly believed in the Vulcan saying, 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. What she did was necessary but sometimes, she really hated being one of the few. Why did she have to forgo a normal life and the chance at real happiness for a bastard like Aaron Pearce? It wasn't fair, so she snuggled into dream-Spock, desperate to hang onto this feeling for as long as she could.

Dream-Spock shook her shoulder and called for her to wake up.

"No. I'll never have this when I'm awake." she murmured sleepily, squeezing her eyes shut. "But I want this…I want you. Let me have it. Just don't go, Spock. Please, _please_ let me sleep."

Spock's body went completely still at her half-awake ramblings, even as she fisted his shirt in her hands. He'd already decided that he wanted her, but he was uncertain how to approach her about his interest. He'd even considered going to Jim for advice, but fortunately, that humiliating conversation was now unnecessary. All his anxieties about rejection, awkwardness, and losing her lifted off his shoulders. Knowing she wanted him too caused him to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her even closer.

"I will not go anywhere, _t'hy'la_." Spock whispered, stroking his thumb over her arm as he held her tightly. She smiled into his chest and ran her fingers through his fine hair. When her fingertips glided over the point of his ear, his chest contracted as he gasped at the sensation. Somehow, the tightening of his chest didn't feel like a dream should; it penetrated the fog in her brain and she opened her eyes fully. Glancing at Spock's pleasure-glazed eyes, she blushed horribly, realizing this hadn't been a dream. Bonnie immediately sat up and stared at her hands as they fiddled with the hem of her dress.

"I'm sorry." she said, biting her lip. "I didn't realize…I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought I was dreaming."

"I am not uncomfortable, Bonnie." Spock corrected gently, sitting up as well. "It was unexpected, but enjoyable."

"It's just, I know Vulcans aren't comfortable being physical with others." she continued apologetically, blushing again. "Let alone in an intimate way."

"There is already emotional intimacy between us, which is far more extraordinary and pleasurable than any physical interaction." Spock paused and tilted his head in thought. "Though, from what I just experienced, I cannot dismiss any sexual activity with you as less enjoyable."

"W-what are you saying?" Bonnie sputtered at his uncharacteristic openness.

"I wish to begin a relationship with you." Spock said plainly. "Have I misread your interest in me as romantic when it is merely platonic?"

"No!" Bonnie exclaimed quickly. "I like you. God, that sounds so juvenile, considering everything I feel for you. I feel so unbelievably connected to you. Your mind is such an incredible, complex place and I think could spend the next hundred years inside of it and never get tired of what I find. And with you, for once, I feel like someone could know my mind as well as I know theirs. But, Spock, as much as I want to be with you…"

"Your profession." he concluded, nodding. Spock swallowed tightly, looking in her eyes. "What will happen after your assignment is complete?"

Bonnie lowered her head. "I don't know. My cover's been blown. None of you know any details about the agency or my previous work, but you know enough. I may be retired as a field agent, but continue on with tactical support. If they choose to retire me completely, it could be as simple as re-assimilating into civilian life. Or they could ask me to adopt a new identity, cut all ties to my past and relocate. It just depends on the results of this operation."

"Then it is possible we may never see each other after your mission has concluded." Spock frowned.

Bonnie could feel the sadness, regret and overwhelming feeling of 'what-if' coming from Spock. She gave a small, sad smile. "We have a saying on Earth. 'It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.'" Bonnie's throat closed tighter at the thought of never seeing Spock again and her eyes became misty. "The future is out of my hands and the present may be all we have."

She took Spock's hand and brought it to her cheek, her eyes giving him permission to do what they both wanted. The Vulcan positioned his thumb under her cheekbone, his index finger above her eyebrow and his middle finger just above that. He reached for her left hand with his right and brought both between their bodies, running his first two fingers over hers in the traditional Vulcan initiation of mating.

"My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging…our minds are one." Spock whispered, their eyelids falling closed at the same moment

Bonnie's breath hitched at the gentle push into her mind. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. He surrounded her and spread through every corner of her mind. He accepted the dark and indulged in the light, caressing her very essence with his life-force. He let her see all the deeply private emotions he couldn't put into words: mutual respect and admiration with Jim, the reluctant understanding between him and McCoy, his pride at young Chekov and so much more flooded her mind. It was a spiritual, physical, total body high. She could feel her soul moving under her skin, making her whole body pull toward Spock with desire and deep love. Spock too, felt a difference in this meld. It was intimacy on a completely new level; it wasn't a meld for information or to reinforce a familial bond. It was the meld of fated mates, confirming everything he already felt for her and intensifying his affection to unimaginable new heights of profound, all-consuming love.

His eyebrows pulled down as persistent pounding and garbled yells assaulted his ears. He pushed the distraction away and returned to the indescribable sensations of their mingled minds.

Outside his quarters, both Kirk and McCoy were holding onto Scotty's thrashing body. The door was made with reinforced steel, but both men were half-convinced that Scotty could kick it in like cardboard. He'd gotten worried about Bonnie when she hadn't shown up to their nightly dinner and had asked the computer where she was. McCoy was eating in the mess-hall and could practically see Scotty seeing red when the computer responded with Spock's quarters. He woke Jim up and it took both of them to keep the crazed Scot from barging in unannounced.

"Good God, man, calm down! She was ill and he wanted to take care of her!" McCoy was forced to shout over Scotty's screamed profanities.

"Oh, I'd shut the hell up if I were you!" Scotty yelled, reaching for the control pad before Kirk yanked his arm back. "You're next, ya god-damned crackpot! Ya shoulda told me Bonnie was sick instead of leavin' her with that unstable Vulcan assclown!"

"Hey!" Kirk snapped. "No one in the galaxy would take better care of Bonnie than Spock!"

Scotty went stiff and turned on Kirk. He spoke softly, his voice dangerously low. "Wha' exactly does tha' mean?"

Kirk didn't answer, but his guilty face said it all. Scotty turned back to the door. "YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YA!"

He managed to get a hand free and hit a series of buttons on the control panel, overriding the lock-out protocols. Squirming away from the captain and the doctor, Scotty ran into the room with the other men hot on his heels. The three stopped short and stared at the couple on the bed. Bonnie was practically sitting in Spock's lap, her forehead resting against Spock's temple. Spock had one hand on her face and the other was caressing her fingers with his. The two were radiating this incredible energy, so strong it was almost tangible. Scotty stepped forward to pry Spock off his sister, but McCoy held him back.

"We can't forcibly separate them, Scotty." McCoy whispered. "They're connected to each other. We have to wait until Spock terminates the meld or Bonnie could be hurt."

"Couldn't she be hurt anyway?" Kirk said softly. "I mean, just yesterday her brain defied medical science. A mind-meld can't be good for her right now."

"I have no idea how a mind-meld affects human brain chemistry." McCoy admitted. "It could heal her brain or make the situation worse. We'll just have to-"

Spock sensed they now had an audience and extricated himself from Bonnie's mind. He looked at them with barely concealed annoyance. "Can I help you?"

"You can help by gettin' the hell off me sister." Scotty said, with out-of-place politeness.

Bonnie groaned and rested her head on Spock's shoulder. Spock immediately got up and laid Bonnie on the bed, motioning for McCoy. "Are you alright, Bonnie?"

She nodded slightly, her eyes closed. "Just tired, love."

"She should rest." McCoy said.

"In her own quarters." Scotty added, folding his arms over his chest.

"Wait!" she said, forcing her eyes open. "The reason I was sick…I need to tell you. The traitor: it's Aaron Pearce. He needs to be confined to the brig until I am well enough to deal with him."

"Hold up. _My_ Aaron Pearce?" Scotty yelled. "As in, my number two? That rat-bastard!"

"Monty, I'll deal with him." Bonnie murmured tiredly, snuggling into the sheets.

"Oh, no ya don't, Tidbit." Scotty said, hauling Bonnie up. "I'm takin' Bonnie to her room. Kirk, ya might want to snatch up Pearce. If that twat ever touches my engines again, I swear to god, I'll cut off his hand and nail it to the door in Engineering."

The Scott siblings left and Kirk whistled lowly. "I think I liked Scotty more before Bonnie came aboard. He hid his crazy better."

"Really? I like him this way." McCoy smirked, before raising an eyebrow at Kirk. "Now…why exactly does he want to cut off Pearce's hand?"

"We can discuss this on the way to the Lieutenant's quarters. We have a traitor to apprehend." Spock said gravely.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The three officers arrived outside Aaron Pearce's quarters. McCoy had a deep scowl on his face. Kirk and Spock had filled him in on Bonnie's true purpose on Enterprise and he was eager to throw Pearce into the brig.

"Computer, open the doors: security override Spock-Alpha-One-Six-Theta." Spock ordered.

The doors opened quietly, revealing Pearce's dark quarters. He was sitting with his back to them and clicked off his computer monitor before turning around. Pearce took in the men's presence and shocked them all by smiling.

"To the brig, then?" he asked, unconcerned.

Spock stepped forward. "Lieutenant Pearce, you are to be confined to the brig under suspicion of high treason. Come with us now."

Pearce didn't put up a fight. He went with them willingly. He smiled as they escorted him out of his quarters. He smiled as they walked him down the corridors. He smiled as they locked him in the brig. And after the men left, he reclined on the hard cot and allowed himself a triumphant grin.

"Computer, confirm voice print of Lieutenant Aaron Pearce." Pearce spoke to the empty room.

"Confirmed." The computer replied.

"Execute subroutine Pearce-One." he ordered, chuckling as the lights went out, the ship stalled and the brig doors opened just enough for him to pry them apart and walk out.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**So? **


	8. So Close And Yet

**Disclaimer: me and the studios are tight…I have it on good authority I get the rights to Star Trek as a birthday present but that's not for another two months. In the meantime, I own nothing.**

**My reviewers hold my heart in their hands. I love them. Okay, so it's not a really deep love…more like how I love macadamia nut cookies. But I **_**really **_**love macadamia nut cookies. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!**

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It was chaos aboard Enterprise. Every room was bathed in a red glow from the emergency lights and crewmembers were scrambling to their stations but Aaron walked through the mayhem with smug self-assurance. He'd planted the subroutine in the main computer banks during their brief pit-stop at Delta Vega, while Enterprise was en-route to regroup with the fleet. As soon as he'd decided to sell the information, he knew he might need a way out. What could he say? He was a genius. With the exception of life support, it was designed to shut down every system except the one he needed to get off the ship: the escape pods. He'd made arrangements to be picked up by a shuttle and would be headed to the Orion system…he just had to make one last stop before he left.

Jogging through the corridors, excusing himself to other running crewmembers, he came upon the doors he was looking for. He pried them apart and stepped inside. It was alight with a red glow like the rest of the ship, but the room's occupant didn't seem to notice that or the commotion going on just outside her quarters. Bonnie was asleep on the small bed and he shook her shoulder lightly. Pearce could tell by the sluggish way she woke up, her barely opened eyelids, and her pale sweaty skin that she still wasn't back in full health. That was just fine with him; it would make this much easier.

"Aaron?" Bonnie asked with confused, half-awake awareness.

"Hi-ya, Bonnie." he said silkily. "I hope you didn't get too attached to Enterprise while you were here. You won't be staying."

"What are you talking about? What the hell are you doing in my room?" she asked, panic creeping into her tone.

Pearce ignored her questions. "Yesterday, I had a very strange psych session with you – focusing, of all things, on the destruction of Vulcan – and today I find myself arrested for treason. Now, I thought to myself, that can't be a coincidence! After your little fit yesterday, I contacted a buddy of mine and it seems there's been some chatter in the intelligence community about a current investigation on Enterprise." Aaron suddenly turned deadly serious. "Who do you work for? Star Fleet Intelligence? Planetary Government?"

"I don't work for anyone!" she cried, backing up to the wall. It was easy to let fear creep into her voice because it was genuine. She didn't have the strength to fight him off; in fact, it felt like she could pass out any second. "Please, I-I'm just a counselor."

"Maybe…and maybe I'll give the profits of the sale to orphans and lost puppies." he mocked. "Oh, you're an agent alright. But for who?"

Bonnie's breath came in shallow, panting gasps and her lip trembled. "I…I…I'm just a therapist. I swear it."

"We'll see about that." he smirked. He climbed on the bed and reached for her. She tried to kick him away and scream, but her energy was low and her voice was hoarse from throwing up so forcefully yesterday. Aaron just waited patiently and was rewarded when she passed out from exhaustion less than a minute later. Picking up her limp form, he carried her into the dark halls and toward the escape pods. On the way, he grinned down at her.

"It'll take them days to sort out this mess and by then, we'll be light years away. Oh, sweetheart, I've got big plans for you."

Only a few minutes later, Aaron had ejected the pod and was watching Enterprise drift in space as he sped away.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The captain was frazzled. Enterprise had suffered some sort of catastrophic power failure six hours ago, but the power grid was in pristine condition (Scotty wouldn't have it any other way) and they'd had no warning whatsoever. They'd tried everything but couldn't restore power to his ship. The engineering crew was working like crazy to find the problem, Uhura and Sulu were trying to get communications running on back-up power, he and Spock had been running around the ship giving orders, and Scotty and Chekov were elbow deep in the computer core. Everyone else was sitting in the dark, twiddling their thumbs and bumping into walls.

Kirk returned to the bridge for an update from Uhura and Sulu, but as he climbed out of the Jefferies tube, the lights came on and the ship came alive with the familiar hum of power.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief before snapping into action. "All senior officers: report to the conference room immediately. All departments: submit status-reports within the hour. Kirk out."

Uhura and Sulu crawled out from under the communications console and followed him into the conference room. Other officers trickled in, sweaty, streaked with grease and exhausted. Except, of course, for Spock who looked about the same as he always did. When they were all present and accounted for, Kirk jumped right into it.

"So, who do I have to thank for turning the lights back on?" Kirk asked.

"That'd be Chekov, Captain." Scotty said with pride.

"All zat damage vas caused by a single subroutine. I vas lucky to see it, Keptin; it vas disguised in ze computer core as original softvare. Ingenious, really." Chekov said.

"Captain, if Pavel hadn't had that lucky hunch, we'd have been adrift for days." Scotty added.

"Good work, Chekov." Kirk added. "Any idea who planted it?"

"It was labeled 'Pearce-One'." Scotty said, shooting a significant look at Kirk.

Spock acted immediately. "Computer, location of Lieutenant Aaron Pearce."

"Lieutenant Aaron Pearce is no longer on board." the computer responded smoothly.

"Oh, shit." Scotty breathed. "Bonnie's gonna kill us. We let him escape with the formula!"

At the mention of Bonnie's name, Spock was suddenly overcome by a terrible emptiness spreading through his chest and a dread that seeped into every corner of his mind. There was nothing he could do to suppress it; it refused to recede into his subconscious and his powerlessness against it only strengthened its affect. But worse than those horrible feelings…he knew what was causing them.

"Computer." He choked out. Every eye was on him. The dread in his voice was infectious, making them all fear what was coming. "Location of Dr. Bonnie Scott."

"Dr. Bonnie Scott is no longer on board."

The room was silent. Spock had his neutral demeanor in place once more, but his eyes were wider than normal and his breath, shallower. A strangled sound escaped Scotty and Kirk blew out a huge sigh.

"We are going after them." Spock stated. It was said so matter-of-factly, so unyieldingly that Kirk stood stunned for a moment.

"Spock, if we deviate from our course, Star Fleet is going to ask questions. Questions we can't really answer." Kirk pointed out, wondering why he was suddenly being the voice of logic.

"Jim, I do not care how you choose to justify it to Star Fleet, but we _will_ do this." Spock said sharply. "The weight of Bonnie's assignment, not to mention her rescue, now falls on Enterprise. This is more important than exploration; entire worlds will be in danger if we don't follow them."

"Uh, hello!" Uhura waved to the men. "I think you left something out…like what the hell's going on, for example?"

"What I say will go no further than these bulkheads, is that clear?" Kirk asked sternly. Receiving dutiful nods, he continued. "Short version: Pearce is a traitor, Bonnie's been sent to apprehend him. We have to stop the former and rescue the latter. Questions? No? Good."

Kirk spoke rapid-fire, not letting his officers voice any questions. Instead, he jumped right into his orders. "Uhura, we're going to need the comm. to be on the fritz for…well, for as long as this takes. I don't want to deal with Star Fleet's questions until I can spin this in a way that doesn't get me thrown out of the Captain's chair. Bones, search Pearce's quarters for any clue as to where he might have headed. Sulu, find their trail and plot an intercept course. Chekov, review every log entry with Pearce's access code on it and report anything suspicious."

"What do you want us to tell the crew?" Uhura asked. "They're going to wonder what's going on."

"Just tell them it's classified and let them speculate. Believe me, whatever they come up with won't be half as crazy as the truth anyway. Dismissed."

The officers threw worried glances at Scotty, who was sitting with his head between his knees, taking deep breaths and blowing them out in time with the shudders of his body. A few softer, pitying looks were sent in Spock's direction as they exited the room. He sat frozen in his chair, staring at some insignificant speck on the wall behind Kirk and looking so…lost.

Kirk waited until the doors sealed behind the other officers before continuing. "Scotty, I can't imagine what you're going through. I hate to do this to you, but no one else on board can finish the job. You were working on tracing that signal to Bonnie's computer, right?" Kirk started, crossing his legs. "Well, I'm wondering if you can trace it back to the computer that _sent_ the signal. If we tell Bonnie's handler about this, he might be able to give us more information about Pearce, tell us where he might have gone or even help us get her back."

"Ya think?" Scotty said hesitantly, hardly daring to hope. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. An asset like Bonnie didn't come around every day. A super secret spy agency had to have resources and cool gismos and awesome spy tactics. They'd get her back for sure! He got up out of his chair and made for the door, calling over his shoulder. "I'm on it, Captain!"

As the Chief Engineer left, Kirk came around to Spock and sat on the conference table just to the left of Spock's chair. "How are you holding up?"

"I am…functioning." Spock said in monotone. No other word seemed to fit. He was in a gray, hopeless limbo. He would rather his body and mind shut down and be absorbed by black nothingness. Better yet, he'd rather take comfort in the white light of his mate's presence. But neither was possible and so he was stuck in this functional, yet deadened, state.

"Spock, I promise you we'll get her back." Kirk said fervently.

"If we don't-" Spock said softly.

Kirk took hold of his friend's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "We will."

"If we don't, my life will never be…quite what it could have been." Spock said, his voice cracking. It was a horrible fate, to get a brief, stunning glance at a future with Bonnie: intimate moments inside her mind and inside her body, the challenges of her intellect, the pleasures of her company, adventures together, children, settled old age. But to see the limitless possibilities of pure love and endless fascination be cut away from his life so suddenly…It was like when his mother fell from the cliff; part of him had wished he'd fallen with her. And now, part of him wished to die. Part of him _was_ dying.

Kirk was at a loss. How could he help the Vulcan back from the brink when he had no idea what he was going through? When he'd seen Bonnie and Spock intertwined during their meld, he'd seen real love maybe for the first time in his life. It left him in awe and in that moment, he'd found a greener shade of envy. He never, in a million years, thought he'd be jealous of Spock's love-life, but it really was something special and he was going to help his friend through this…once he figured out how. "Uh, buddy? You gotta give me something to go on here. I mean, what do you need? What can I do that'll help?"

"Give me a task." Spock said. "Anything will do."

Kirk frowned in deep thought and then a smirk blossomed on his face. "I've got the perfect thing: logical, necessary and a destructive outlet for all those emotions you say you don't feel. Anywhere Aaron wants to sell this information isn't going to take kindly to a Federation vessel. I want you to sleaze up one of our shuttles. You know, weapons blasts, paint and scrap metal all over the hull, change the warp signature so it doesn't read as Federation, etcetera etcetera. Think you can handle that?"

Spock's mouth tilted up at the corner, but it was hardly a pleasant expression. It was a grim sort of smile, one that spoke of vengeance. "Yes, Captain. I can do that."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**On the next installment on Best Laid Plans…Scotty has a disturbing conversation with Titan (aka Uncle Levi) and Aaron's 'big plans' for Bonnie turn out to be a fate worse than death. Will she be rescued in time?**

**I could munch on your brains to absorb your thoughts on this story, but brains taste like calamari and I hate seafood. It's better for both of us if you review :) **


	9. Out of the Frying Pan

**Disclaimer: same old song and dance.**

**This chapter is going out to cylobaby and xKayla xKatastrophe for being my two most faithful reviewers. Thanks so much you two!**

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Scotty sat at the desk in Bonnie's quarters, rubbing his palms on his thighs to rid them of nervous sweat. He'd had traced the signal back to Bonnie's handler and with the press of a button, he'd be talking to the bastard face-to-face. Spock and Kirk had decided that Scotty should be the only one to talk to the agent; who knows how Bonnie's boss would react to the entire senior staff of Enterprise knowing about her real profession? No, it was better for all involved if he thought the breach only went as far as his asset's brother.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Scott." Spock said quietly. "If he senses something amiss, he may terminate the conversation and your efforts will have been for nothing."

"Not helping." Scotty muttered, massaging his temples. "I just don't know if I can talk to this guy without screamin' at him. He's the one tha' got her involved in all this!"

"You've gotta try, Scotty." Kirk said. "Sulu's working on tracking them, but it was hours before we realized they were missing. The pod's trail is decayed pretty badly. This guy's still our best bet."

"I know, I know!" Scotty said, taking a few deep breaths and then nodding his head. "Okay. I'm ready."

The captain and his first officer stepped back so as not to be seen and Scotty initiated the call. A stern looking older man came on the screen, but his scowling face was instantly replaced by one of shock.

"Montgomery?" Titan exclaimed.

"Uncle Levi?" Scotty shouted. "You're Bonnie's handler? You son of a bitch! You're the one tha' recruited her, aren't ya? How could ya do this to her? To Da? You've been his best friend since grade school and you recruited his only daughter for a career in glorified suicide!"

Titan overcame his initial surprise and his expression was replaced by a careful mask of confused curiosity. When in doubt, stick to that age-old spy adage: 'say nothing, deny everything'. "Montgomery, I have no idea what you're talking about. How did you get this contact number? You know some of my work for the SFPD is classified and that includes this channel!"

"If you're a street cop, then I'm a fuckin' stripper." Scotty snapped. "You know what, I don't have time for your lyin' arse. The only reason I called is because Bonnie's been kidnapped by the traitor. I need to know where they're headed. I need your help, Uncle Levi! You got her into this mess; you better help me get her out of it!"

Titan's expression was completely neutral, though his mind was whirling. They'd followed Bonnie's directive to monitor Enterprise's computer activity remotely and now knew that Aaron Pearce was the traitor (thanks to his egocentric labeling of the subroutine). They'd been looking into him and his family more thoroughly, but there was no way the agency could find them in time. He'd just have to trust Bonnie to get the job done…somehow.

"Are ya even listenin' to me, ya heartless bastard?" Scotty shouted.

Looking at his best friend's son and seeing fear, panic and hatred on his face, Titan made a decision. He'd be walking a fine line…but, then again, he'd been doing that for thirty years. "Sorry, Montgomery, I'm listening. It's just…I've been consumed by this one case."

Scotty looked at his 'uncle' with shock and disgust. His agent, not to mention his best friend's daughter, was missing and the man didn't even care!

Titan continued, pointedly ignoring Scotty's expression. "Our department just got word from Holna Five that there was a prison break-out a few months ago. You know these outer-planets: they like to pretend they're not a part of the Federation but come running to us as soon as there's a problem they can't fix. Anyway, it seems only one man got away, but let me tell you, Brock Pearce is a skilled player."

Scotty went still, his eyes wide. "Brock _Pearce_, you say?"

"Yeah. We have it on good authority that he's headed towards Syndicate territory. He made a lot of good contacts in the Orion underworld when he was still operating. If he's got something to sell…or maybe knows someone who's got something to sell, that's where they'd go." Titan said firmly. "Look, kid, I've got to get back to work. I'm sorry about Bonnie. I hope you find her…I really do."

"I will." Scotty said determinedly. "And, thanks."

"For what? I didn't do anything." Titan's innocent expression was undermined by the small smirk on his lips and he terminated the connection.

"Kirk to Sulu. Set a course for Orion space and keep scanning for the pod's trail." Kirk closed the channel and turned to the other men grinning. "Good work, Scotty. Come on. We still have work to do."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Bonnie woke up gradually and became aware of her body bit by bit. Her throat wasn't as sore and tight as it had been, her limbs didn't feel weak or sluggish and her skin was once again warm and refreshed. Even better than her improved health was Spock's warm body pressed up against hers. A smile graced her face as she snuggled deeper into him, but her eyes snapped open when a sneering chuckle vibrated through the man next to her.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Aaron grinned mockingly. "Someone's feeling affectionate."

Bonnie scrambled away from him, but it didn't do much good. They were in an escape pod meant for one, so there was only an inch or two between them. Dread filled her. In a rush, the events of last night flooded her memory. Aaron in her quarters, knowing she was an agent. The last thing she remembered was Aaron climbing on her bed and reaching for her in a red, glowing room. It's no surprise that she'd dreamt of Hell. And now…now she was living it. Using all of her self-control, Bonnie forced her panic down. Now was not the time to get lost in her emotional upheaval. She forced it down and recalled her training, repeating the mantra _focus on the facts_. Rule number one: if you don't assess a situation, you won't know how to improve it.

Letting her covert education take over, Bonnie looked around the small pod with a critical eye. The view to her right was nothing but empty space and distant stars. Out the window to her left was a ship that had clearly seen better days. It was relatively small, but needed a crew of at least two and its weapons capabilities appeared limited. Alien spacecraft wasn't really a specialty of hers, but off the top of her head, it looked on par with a leopard-class scouting shuttle from a few decades ago – outdated, but sturdy and reliable. It was idling in space, its docking hatch directly in their current path. Glancing at Aaron, who had returned his attention to the flight controls, she saw that he had PADD sitting next to him and a Klingon disrupter stuffed in the back of his pants.

She didn't know how long she'd been out but couldn't count on Enterprise to find her before Aaron did something…unpleasant. Not for the first time in her short career_, _mortality was staring her in the face. Bonnie normally thrived in her internal world but, with the fear rising steadily in her chest, she wanted to avoid it at all costs. Instead, she focused on her adversary, turning fear into anger and panic into determination. Looking at Aaron with a stare of intense concentration, a single truth echoed through her mind.

_You'll die before I do, you sick bastard._

"I know I'm absurdly handsome, but it's kind of hard to dock this pod with you ogling me." Aaron smirked, still concentrating on the pod controls.

"Oh, yes." Bonnie replied sarcastically. "Being kidnapped by a sociopathic traitor and facing certain death are small matters compared to that chiseled jaw of yours."

"Well, it _was_ practically carved by Michelangelo." Aaron agreed, laughing. "But Bonnie, I'm offended! If you die, I promise it won't be by my hand. No, I have something much more…practical, in mind for you."

"Such as?" she asked with feigned disinterest. She couldn't do anything now, inside this tiny pod, but anything he told her could help her form a plan for later.

He just grinned and turned away from her. The mystery ship loomed closer and both Bonnie and Aaron lurched forward as the docking port made an airtight seal around the pod's hatch. Aaron opened the small door and slid out, offering his hand to Bonnie. She knocked it aside and crawled out on her own, ignoring his amused smile.

Outside the hatch stood an older man with shaggy blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail and horribly familiar green eyes. Looking between the man and Aaron, she knew he was the starting point of this twisted family legacy. He was bulkier and more serious than his son, but Brock Pearce possessed a dangerous air. The older man crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes narrowed.

"So…" Brock said gruffly, looking Bonnie over. "This her?"

"Yep. What do you think, Pop? Think she'll do well?" Aaron asked, also looking her over. The casual, calculating way their eyes followed the lines of her body made her want to squirm, but she forced herself to stay still.

Pearce Senior gave a warped half-smile and nodded. "Definitely."

"She'll do even better if we find out who she works for. We've got some travel time left. I think we can beat it out of her." Aaron said, stalking over to her and raising his fist. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, bracing for the blow. Seconds passed with tense anticipation, but the promise of pain went unfulfilled. Her muscles slowly unwound, relaxing her rigid stance. Glancing up cautiously, she saw that Brock had stalled Aaron's swing with a firm grip on his forearm.

"You know better, boy." Brock growled. "What do I always say?"

Aaron hung his head petulantly and muttered, "Don't damage the merchandise."

Merchandise…that one word blocked her senses and stopped her breathing. Nothing could keep those stewing emotions down now. She'd perfected a calm exterior long ago but despite being composed on the outside, her mind was buzzing. Thoughts ran through her head so fast only detached fragments made it to the surface. _Traitor_. _Information_. _Orions_. _Market_. As those individual words blended together to form a coherent thought, her heart stopped for a beat. Jesus Christ…they were going to sell her on the Orion slave trade.

With both her heart and her hope sinking to the ground, she recognized the futility of her situation. There was no where to run. Even if she killed them both, she couldn't pilot this ship. The communications equipment on a shuttle this size wasn't sophisticated enough for her to contact anyone who could help and it might be days before Enterprise was able to search for her, assuming they even had an idea of where to look. The outlook was bleak and flashes of people and memories went through her head. Spock, Monty, Da, Spock, Uncle Levi, Kirk, Spock, Ma, Monty, Spock. The images kept coming and she succumbed to them, taking comfort in the memories of the past and visions of a different, better future.

Brock continued, oblivious to Bonnie's inner turmoil. "That's right! You think we'll get a good price for her if she's covered in bruises? No! Use your brain for once, Aaron! We don't really need to know who she works for or even if she's an agent. If she is, this will get her out of our hair. If she's not…well, we'll still make enough money from the sale to tide us over until the Red Matter auction. Speaking of which, you have the formula, right?"

Aaron handed his father the PADD and tapped the screen. "It's all here: an account of the incident, the schematics for Nero's ship and the formula."

"Good boy." Brock smiled, patting Aaron on the cheek. "Download it into the computer while I take our guest to see Divia."

Aaron's face brightened. "You brought Divia? Damn, I can't _wait_ to see her!"

"Not for a while, son." Brock said. He grabbed Bonnie's upper arm and leered down at her. "Divia has to get sweet-cheeks here ready for her market debut."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Next up on Best Laid Plans: Bonnie meets Divia. As she gets ready for the slave trade, a plan forms in her mind. **

**Reviews make me happy.**


	10. On The Road

**Disclaimer: not mine in reality, only in this story.**

**Thanks so much for all your fantastic reviews. I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story. It makes me warm and fuzzy and gooey on the inside.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

As Brock led her through the small ship, Bonnie kept a sharp eye out. After exiting the pod, they emerged onto the small bridge. The ship definitely wasn't Federation make; all the consoles were in an alien language, further evidence she couldn't pilot this ship. After leaving the command deck, they passed two closed doors which she assumed were crew quarters. After a very brief walk, they came to the ship's cargo hold/medical bay/engine room. It was tiny, considering its multiple functions, but Bonnie didn't focus long on the room itself. Standing next to the only bio-bed was a gorgeous and statuesque woman. Bonnie recognized her as a member of the Edo species. They weren't part of the Federation, but were generally a peaceful, contented people. They resembled humans, but were all extremely attractive to the opposite sex and their skin was tan to the _nth_ degree; her incredible golden hue seemed to make her glow.

This woman, Divia, possessed long blonde hair curled in ringlets and a wide, welcoming smile. Her attire was skimpy – almost non-existent. It looked like a pale pink ribbon had been tied around her breasts just enough to cover her nipples. Two more ribbons attached to the back of her bra-ribbon and criss-crossed in front of her stomach. It came down further and just barely managed to cover her sex. The ribbons went between her thighs, followed the curve of her buttocks (leaving it entirely exposed) and joined up again with the back of her 'bra'. And that was it. That was her outfit.

"Get her ready for the Trade, Div." Brock said, pushing Bonnie toward the bio-bed. "And make her look good, honey."

"Of course, Brock." Divia smiled, taking Bonnie by the hand. "You won't even recognize her."

Brock left them with a grunt and Divia smiled at Bonnie. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Bonnie, is it?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Oh, please excuse my poor manners! My name is Divia. I belong to Brock." she said.

"You _belong_ to Brock?" Bonnie asked. She was in open-mouth shock at Divia's casual mention of being a slave.

"Yes, and if may I be so bold, I hope you have half my luck at the Trade." Divia whispered excitedly like a gossiping teenager. "Oh, Brock is a wonderful master and Aaron is so amusing. They let me help out around the ship and hardly ever hit me! My last owner was just terrible! He never let me leave the bedroom and the beatings were quite regular. Here, there is much more to occupy my time. For instance, helping you prepare for market! Oh, this will be so much fun! Come!"

Divia dragged her to the middle of the room and circled her body, humming in approval, but her inspection stopped as Bonnie started to giggle. It progressed to an insane, unstoppable laughter when she really thought about her situation. Two sociopaths, one brainwashed slave and a helpless agent head to market. It sounded like some twisted joke, which only made her laugh harder. There wasn't anything else to do in this situation – it was either laugh hysterically or cry uncontrollably.

Titan had told her a story once. He'd been cornered by two Nausicaan mercenaries who'd ransomed a high ranking Federation diplomat. They'd advanced on him, taunting him and trying to get inside his head. He said a strange sensation and a radical personality change overtook him; his almost certain death and their less-than-clever insults had him doubled over in mad laughter. His training was useless – there were no solutions or moves to make. All that intense focus they'd been trained to possess had nowhere to go, which ironically led to mental chaos and a fatalistic sense of humor. Nothing mattered. From that point on, anything they did – from taking him aboard their ship and leaving Federation space to locking him up with their violent and smelly on-board livestock – just served to amuse him further. He only snapped out of it when the tactical situation changed and he could finally _do_ something.

Bonnie was now following in her mentor's footsteps, experiencing that perverse enlightenment for herself. Catching a glance of Divia's concerned, confused face sent her into another wave of hysterics. After a minute or two, she straightened and wiped the streaming tears from her cheeks. She smiled at Divia, detached from – but highly amused by – her current situation.

"So how does this work? Do I get my own ribbon? If so, I want a blue one." Bonnie said lightly.

"What?" Divia asked confusedly, before realizing Bonnie was talking about her outfit. "Oh, no! This is your first time on the market. Better to give enticing hints of the purchase, but leave the best for after the sale. I've been to many Trades; some are dressed seductively but for you, I'm thinking…virginal."

"Virginal? Isn't that a little counter-productive to a sex auction?" Bonnie asked teasingly.

"Trust me." Divia grinned. She crossed the small cargo hold and dug through an old trunk. She pulled out a bundle of sheer white silk and thrust it into Bonnie's arms. "Try this on."

Bonnie shrugged and closed the curtain around the bio-bed. Putting the garment on, its basic parts were like a bikini. The tube-top like bra and panties were a pale shade of purple. Flowing from the top of the panties were sheer strips of white silk, cascading from her waist and swirling around her legs as she moved. More sheer silk was attached to the bottom of the bra, but the material parted to leave her stomach and belly-button exposed. Stepping from behind the curtain, she spun around for Divia, who clapped delightedly.

"Perfect!" Divia squealed. She pulled Bonnie to the bio-bed and patted the seat. Bonnie hopped up while Divia went to the counter and mixed a light purple paste in a bowl. "Now for make-up and hair! Body art is very en-vogue at the Trade right now and you're in luck! I've been doing my own for years and I'm going to make you look fabulous. The bids will be pouring in!"

"I always wanted a tattoo." Bonnie said easily, taking it all in stride.

Divia began to apply the paste in intricate and beautiful swirling patterns: first around her belly-button, then over the length of one thigh. Her last application started at Bonnie's forehead in thin strokes, but the patterns continued down her neck, and finally blossomed above her left breast, the lines becoming thicker as they moved down. The paste was sticky and wet, but soon dried. The smattering of patterns seemed asymmetrical and random. She couldn't imagine that it looked good, but once Divia proclaimed her a masterpiece, she looked in a mirror and thought it was actually quite artistic. It swept across her body – from the top left at her forehead, drawing attention to the middle of her taut stomach and ending with the elaborate symbols on her right thigh.

"It dries quickly, but try not to touch it for another hour or so, just in case. It should last for a couple of weeks. After that, you'll have a harem-mother to do this kind of thing for you. Or, if you're solo, you'll have time to learn it on your own. Now!" Divia grinned, pointing to Bonnie's head. "Hair."

Bonnie relaxed under Divia's ministrations as she tugged and dressed her hair. In the end, pale purple and sheer white ribbons were weaved into an intricate braid around the crown of her head while the rest of her straw-berry blonde waves flowed down her back.

Bonnie moved to get up from the bio-bed when Divia's hands stopped working her hair, but the slave-girl pushed her back down. "Wait! I still have one finishing touch."

Divia went back to the trunk and fished out a thin, moldable wire. She instructed Bonnie to hold her left arm out straight and wrapped the wire around her bicep twice before curling the ends into a similar pattern to the body-art.

"Done!" Divia announced happily. But Bonnie wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were glued to the arm band. All at once, her warped acceptance of the situation vanished…because the tactical situation had just changed. Now she was getting somewhere; now she could _do_ something. Without even realizing it, Divia had just given her a weapon. The wire was thick and flexible – it would make an excellent garrote. She could see herself tightening it around Aaron's throat now. The idea of an assassin-spy didn't apply to her; she'd only killed one person before and that was in an open-and-shut case of self defense. But for Aaron she would make an exception. She may not have an exit strategy yet, but…baby steps. Kill Aaron first and then take it from there.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Only the senior staff occupied the bridge and every eye was trained on the view-screen. Just off their port bow, one of their escape pods was floating aimlessly in space.

"Life signs." Kirk almost whispered the words, hope evident in his voice.

Spock concentrated on the read-outs pouring into his computer console, but shook his head. "No life signs, Captain. The pod is empty."

"No!" Scotty said through clenched teeth. "We're too close! The trail canna go cold now!"

"Captain, I'm picking up a warp trail. It directly intersects with the pod's engine signature." Sulu reported. "I think they were taken aboard."

"Musta been Papa Pearce comin' to pick up junior." Scotty scowled.

"Pursuit course. Maximum warp." Kirk ordered, rising out of his chair and heading for the turbo-lift. "Spock, Scotty – you're with me. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

The three men stepped onto the turbo-lift and nothing was said between them. Neither Spock nor Scotty knew what their captain wished to talk about, but he was clearly agitated. Kirk was an energetic, spirited man, but those characteristics were tempered by his authority and confidence. Not in this moment, though. Kirk was fidgeting: bouncing on the balls of his feet, gnawing on his thumbnail, cracking his bones and humming in a random, tuneless pattern.

The turbo-lift stopped and the officers gave no conscious thought to their destination, even as they walked to Bonnie's office. It seemed natural and none of them questioned the setting. Scotty sat on Bonnie's desk, swinging his feet over the side distractedly. Spock paused in the doorway, feeling a sharp pain in his chest as he caught sight of the ocean painting. That painting was the beginning of him and Bonnie. Part of him wanted to gaze at it longingly, remembering all it represented and all the memories that stemmed from it. But he did not have the energy to devote to that right now, so instead, he turned away and sat on one of the couches. Kirk continued to fidget, now pacing the room in long strides. Silence reigned until Kirk finally spoke.

"It doesn't make sense." he murmured.

"To what are you referring?" Spock asked.

At last, Kirk stood still, facing the other two. "We've been so consumed by the fact that Pearce took Bonnie, we haven't stopped to consider _why_! What purpose could that possibly serve?"

"That he took her, of all the people aboard Enterprise, suggests he discovered her true purpose on this ship." Spock stated.

"But why?" Kirk reiterated. "He didn't need to take her! He had all the bases covered with that subroutine. If he was concerned about her interfering with his plans, why not take care of her before he left?"

"Ya mean kill her." Scotty said flatly.

Kirk looked at Scotty apologetically, but nodded reluctantly. "He's not opposed to selling Red Matter; I'm thinking his conscience wouldn't get in the way. I'm just saying – what's the point of taking the one person who's trying to catch him, along for the ride?"

Spock stood suddenly, his voice strained. "What are you looking for with this line of questioning, Captain? That perhaps Lieutenant Pearce wishes to inflict more pain before he kills her? That he wishes to violate her first? I fail to see the logic in speculating on all the nefarious plans Pearce might have in mind for Bonnie. It is unimportant. Finding her, on the other hand, is."

Spock left unceremoniously and Kirk eyes fell shut in regret. Yes, the reasons behind Pearce's move bothered him, but he shouldn't have brought it up. Spock was right. It didn't help the situation, and in fact, just made it worse by giving them terrible scenarios to dwell on.

"Th-" Scotty cleared his throat, but his voice remained tight. "This is'na goin' to end well…is it, Captain?"

Kirk looked at Scotty, a fire in his eyes. "Not for Pearce, it's not. I do _not_ give up, Scotty, and neither will this crew. If he hurt her-"

"Then Spock can have what's left o' him." Scotty shot back, giving the barest nod to Spock's relationship with his sister. "I get him first."

Kirk gave the Scot a grim half-smile. "No arguments here, Mr. Scott."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Please read and review! **


	11. A Serious Misunderstanding

**Disclaimer: belongs to…someone else. Not really sure who. Lucky bitch, though.**

**This chapter is going out to Zarelle for all those fantastic reviews. Thanks to everyone who's reading!**

**Bonnie and Spock have another trial or two before they can be reunited…have patience, have faith. Their love only grows stronger :) **

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Divia led Bonnie to the bridge after her slave-girl makeover, a bright smile on her face. "Brock, Aaron! What do you think?"

Brock looked Bonnie over critically, as he would any piece of merchandise, but Aaron was filled with lust at the sight she made. He ran his eyes over her exposed body hungrily and gave her a lecherous smile. His interest played right into Bonnie's hands and she played her role as virginal sex slave harder, a plan forming in her mind. Bonnie glanced at him shyly from under her lashes and let a small smile form on her lips when he grinned at her. Her own behavior disgusted her, but it would pay off in the end. Divia, sensing their approval, clapped happily.

"Wonderful!" she cried. "Come, Bonnie. You must look rested for your auction. May she rest in your room, Aaron?"

"Absolutely." Aaron smiled, muttering to his father, "And I think I'll join her."

Bonnie heard Brock snort in amusement as Divia led her away. The two women entered Aaron's bedroom and Bonnie settled in on the small bed, smiling as Divia wished her pleasant dreams and left. As soon as the doors shut behind her, Bonnie's smile disappeared and she unraveled the wire from her arm. She worked quickly, not knowing when Aaron might show up. She molded the wire into a slight curve and ripped two strips of silk from her skirt. Wrapping the silk around the ends of the garrote, she tied them off and tested it out. The silk would protect her hands from injury but nothing would protect Aaron once she got a hold of him.

Agents had to be well-rounded in order to roll with the punches of an assignment, but that didn't stop them from having specialties. Some were skilled in coercion or interrogation, others had talents in combat, extraction or gathering intel and a few were masters of seduction. To be quite honest, she was mediocre in most of those areas. Her fighting skills were barely enough to qualify her for field work, her extreme empathy got in the way of any sort of coercion work and she could never keep a straight face when attempting seduction in training exercises. No, her specialty was identification. When there was a problem, but the agency didn't know who was causing it, that's where she came in. That's where she excelled. But for this, she would be forced to stray into other, less comfortable specialties – seduction, for one, combat for another and assassination as the _coup-de-grace_.

Bonnie heard footsteps echoing through the small hallway and stuffed the garrote under her pillow. She shut her eyes and feigned sleep just as the doorway opened with a quiet rush of air. Her awareness sharpened as Aaron approached her. His footsteps were careful and quiet as he neared the bed and the mattress sagged under his weight when he lay down beside her. As his hand slowly travelled from her flat stomach upwards, she made her move. Too quick for Aaron to counter, Bonnie swung her leg over his body, pulled one of his arms painfully behind his back and placed the other hand on the back of his neck, forcing his face into the pillow. His frantic thrashing and muffled yells did nothing to help him; she pinned his legs between hers and lowered her face to his ear.

"No amount of cowardice or charm will save you this time." she whispered harshly. "You're going to die – for all the lives you were willing to put in jeopardy and for all the worlds you would have helped destroy. You would have been the father of modern mayhem, but now you'll simply…disappear."

His muted screams took on a begging, panicked tone, but Bonnie tuned them out and reached under the pillow. She wrapped the metal chord around his neck and tightened it. He clawed at it desperately with his free hand and she dug a knee into his back for leverage. The garrote dug into his skin, creating folds in the flesh and crushing his larynx. Bonnie turned her head and focused on the wall, grimacing. She knew he deserved to die, but taking a life so violently and so…willingly, disturbed her greatly. Even so, her grip never wavered. His flailing got even wilder, but eventually his struggling body weakened and then just stopped altogether. Bonnie held on a few seconds longer than necessary, because releasing him would mean facing what she'd done. Her heavy breathing echoed loudly in her ears as she slowly lowered the garrote. Aaron was motionless beneath her, his face buried in the pillow. With achingly slow movements, she removed herself from on top of him and climbed off the bed. She stared with wide eyes. His chest wasn't moving and hers wasn't either. The entire room was so still, she felt suffocated by it. Closing her eyes, she knew the job wasn't done. Shoving her anxiety aside, she rolled Aaron over and then instantly turned away. A confirmed kill. A thin line of blood ran along his neck from where the garrote had dug in and there was a heavy sense of death hovering over him.

Knowing she'd just saved countless lives was a damn good justification for killing him, but it didn't help settle the disgust and disbelief rolling in the pit of her stomach. It seemed there was never any time to process anything. If she could just sit, if all this would only end, she might be able to deal with it! But, as she caught sight of the Klingon disrupter in the waistband of Aaron's pants, she knew that once again, there was still more to do. Grabbing the weapon, she left the stifling, tainted room and walked onto the bridge.

It was unceremonious. No last words on either of their parts, no struggle and no more conflicting emotions. Brock was at the navigation controls, his back toward her. He wasn't even aware of her presence – not as she approached his chair, not as she aimed the disrupter and not as she fired at the back of his head. His last moments weren't spent in fear or pain, which was a better death than he deserved. But she didn't have the energy to give him that kind of death and she most certainly didn't have the desire. So it was clean. There was really no need to visually confirm this kill considering the gaping, slightly smoking hole at the back of his skull, but she felt the perverse need to burn this image into her mind. They didn't deserve to be remembered by anyone, least of all her, but she wasn't doing this for them. She needed to remember this for her: to remember what she was capable of and what she'd done for her people. For better or worse, Brock's wide-eyed death mask would linger in her mind forever.

Just as she made to leave Brock's side, an urgent beeping went off at his console. Callous as it may have been, she hastily shoved his body to the floor and studied the screen. Though it was written in an alien language, she caught the gist of the alarm. A ship was approaching – fast. It was an Orion cruiser, marked as Syndicate by the symbols on the hull. This was not good. She may have killed Brock and Aaron, but they'd downloaded the information into the ship's computer core. If the shuttle was commandeered by the Syndicate, they'd get the information anyway. Bonnie's body couldn't decide which way to go. She started walking to the back of the ship, then turned around toward the console again. She was frantic! How to destroy the information when she couldn't even access the computer?

Suddenly, her head snapped up. "The warp core!"

Bonnie ran to the back room; she wasn't Montgomery Scott's sister for nothing! She may not be able to get at the computer, but she could destroy the information by destroying the ship! Skidding to the warp core, Bonnie studied it intently.

"Bonnie! What are you doing back here? You must rest!" Divia cried.

"No time! A Syndicate ship is closing in." Bonnie said distractedly. Finally getting a sense for the alien engines, she rerouted the main-power relay to feed back into the warp core. The build-up was slow enough that they'd have a few minutes, but powerful enough to cause a warp-core overload and destroy the ship. She'd have to thank Monty later for making her quiz him on engines as a kid.

"Done!" Bonnie cried triumphantly. Any second now, the Syndicate ship would detect the overload and…

A tingling sensation ran through her body as she was transported through space and a second later, found herself surrounded by hulking, green, angry-looking men. As the Orions looked at them, they lowered their weapons and grinned viciously.

"This must be our lucky day. First that Vulcan shuttle, then two slave-girls." the Orion on her left said.

The one in the middle, who seemed to be in charge, looked them over briefly. "Process them and put them with the others. The Trade starts soon."

He left, presumably to pilot the ship toward the market, while two others approached her and Divia. They each had a small device, just big enough to close over one finger. They slipped it onto Divia's middle finger first and she flinched ever so slightly. The Orion looked at his PADD and read off the results.

"Name: Divia Patax. Previous Owner: Brock Pearce. Last selling price: 4 bars of gold-pressed latinum. She'll bring a decent profit. I'll take her to cell three." The Orion hauled Divia off, who looked slightly put-out, but not nearly as upset about the situation as Bonnie thought she should be. _The life of a slave, I guess._

The Orion slipped the device over her finger next and she felt a little pinch as it took a small sample of blood. The Orion read his screen, slightly surprised. He took in her attire, which clearly read 'slave-girl' and then looked back at the screen. "She's never been on the market before!"

"A new girl?" a nearby Orion asked.

"Looks that way." he responded before concentrating on the facts. "Species: Human. Age: 25 Earth-years. Name?"

Bonnie responded instinctually, blurting out her agency handle. "Tethys."

The Orion nodded and waved another man over. "Take her to cell one for processing."

Bonnie let herself be hauled through the alien ship. As they walked along the outer corridors, they passed a star-port. She paused as she caught sight of Brock's ship; it idled in space for a moment and then exploded, a brilliant flash of light in the darkness of space. A shock-wave hit the Orion ship, rocking it slightly as the guard pushed her forward towards the cells. She felt an immense wave of relief wash through her. It was over, finally and completely done. The potentially devastating information was safely destroyed, the traitors were dead, but the smile of relief dropped from her face as she realized…she was still headed for a life of slavery.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"Sulu, I want you to drop out of warp right on top of the ship and lock on a tractor beam. Scotty, be ready with the transporter. McCoy, stand-by in transporter room thr-" Kirk was shooting orders intently. They'd caught up with Brock's ship and were ready to mount their rescue mission, but his rapid-fire orders were interrupted by a quiet, but distressed cry from Sulu.

"Captain…the ship. It's…it's…not there." Sulu reported brokenly.

Kirk swallowed tightly at Sulu's tone. "On-screen."

Uhura put the ship's coordinates on the view-screen, but instead of a small shuttle, there was a wide-spread debris field. Twisted scraps of half-melted metal floated on and off the screen and sections of the obliterated ship still sparked with the last vestiges of directionless energy.

"Sulu, tell me there's a warp trail leading away from the debris." Kirk demanded. "Maybe they ditched the shuttle and got picked up again."

"I'm sorry, Captain." Sulu said, working the keys on his console. "Even if they had boarded another ship, any warp trail in the shockwave radius would have been obliterated by the core explosion."

"Report on the debris, Chekov." Kirk choked out.

Chekov shook his head to snap out of his shock and ran an analysis of the wreckage. He rattled off a list of component elements of the ship's hull, but paused before adding another material to the list. "Keptin, zere is…organic residue among ze debris. Zere vere people on ze shuttle vhen zis happened. I am sorry, sir."

Kirk hung his head and shot an angry huff of air through his nose. They were too late. Turning toward the Engineering bridge station, Scotty had a desperate, determined look on his face as he worked on his console. After several minutes, desperation heavily outweighed determination until he slumped back in his chair, a look of horrified shock on his face.

"She did this." Scotty rasped. "Bonnie did this. I taught her how to overload an engine core by redirecting the power-flow. This is her work."

Uhura was at Scotty's side in an instant, wrapping her arms around the devastated Scot and crying into his shirt. His arms came around her tightly. "Why would she do that?" she whispered.

The crew was silent, no answer forthcoming. They'd all formed deep and unique bonds with Bonnie. It was a circumstance unique to being a counselor; they'd trusted her and talked to her. They'd let her see their true selves – she didn't accept anything less in her sessions with them. It was freeing. Chekov sat stunned and immobile in his chair, remembering crying into Bonnie's shirt as he told her of his guilt over the unimaginable pain he'd caused a most beloved sister, something he'd let fester inside of himself for years. Sulu leaned over his console and thought to the absolute openness he felt around her, like he could tell her anything. And he had, he'd told her things he hadn't spoken of to anyone. Uhura thought on her session as well, the regret of the Nero Incident and the self-blame. If only she'd done something more or reported on the Klingon transmission earlier. Scotty thought nothing at all. A pervasive numbness overtook him and there was nothing but a physical sensation like white-noise. So much was going on inside him, thought, emotion, energy and fatigue collided with each other in a chaotic mesh to form a blanket of crackling, numbing noise.

And Kirk…Kirk felt a guilt so overpowering, he collapsed into his chair. He'd failed them all. He'd failed Scotty and Spock when he'd promised her safe return and retribution against Pearce. He'd failed Bonnie…he should have protected her better. She was protecting the entire ship, the entire Federation, hell, the whole damn galaxy. The least he could have done was protect her, but he couldn't even do that! And when he thought on Bonnie's selfless defense of her own…Kirk knew why.

"It was the only way." he said painfully. "It must have been the only way to destroy the information, by destroying the ship…and everyone on it. Even herself."

One by one, within seconds of each other, the bridge crew remembered their Vulcan officer. Heads turned toward the science station, sympathetic looks at the ready, but Spock was no longer on the bridge.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Where did Spock go? Will he trust the facts and mourn Bonnie or insist she's still alive? How will Bonnie get out of her situation? Fear not! The answers…after this commercial break.**

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	12. Worse Before It Gets Better

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. Excuse me, I'm going to go cry in a little dark room now.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

To the uninitiated, the Orion slave market was disturbing, to say the least. Rusty cages were clustered together on the left side of the large room, unbearably small but holding at least ten captives each. The floors of the cages were lined with something resembling hay, urine and feces gathered in one corner. The slaves' desperate pleas and frightened screams mingled with the rattling of bars and the ever-present sounds of auction: the clicking of buttons as patrons sent in their bids, the great board behind the auction platform ringing in every higher offer and the triumphant shouts of winning masters.

Yes, it was a terrible place…to the uninitiated. But even more disturbing than watching the captives be stripped of freedom, dignity and hope was the absolute indifference or even cruel amusement of the buyers. They leered through the thick bars at the beautiful slave girls, describing in disgusting detail what they'd do to them after the sale. They taunted the strong but helpless men destined for hard labor. They ridiculed the weak – men not strong enough, women not attractive enough, children not old enough and elders not healthy enough – and threatened to buy them for the only purpose they'd be suited for: food.

Yet, not all the captives were begging and bribing to be let out. Several Vulcans, male and female, were imprisoned in the cages and awaiting their own sale. They failed to see the logic of screaming for help in a room full of criminals or shaking the sturdy bars of the cage. Another voice stayed silent in the crowd too, but logic had nothing to do with it.

Bonnie sat in the corner of one cell, her chin resting on her knees and hands pressed hard against her ears. Her eyes were squeezed shut but tears leaked out anyway. It felt like her head was about to implode. The room was too emotionally charged for her; between the greed and lust of the buyers, the fear and desperation of the captives and the smug arrogance of the Orion traders, she couldn't think! Her mind was being invaded and bombarded by everyone around her. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and blanket the horrible cacophony with her own noise, but couldn't summon the energy. Instead, she screamed in her own mind. Her voice sounded piercing, shrill and frantic as she cried out one word in her head over and over again. _Spock!_

"Tell me about him." A calm voice said next to her. Bonnie opened her bloodshot eyes as a soft and wrinkled hand gently squeezed her forearm. Following the arm upward, she saw an older woman sitting beside her and instantly recognized her as a Vulcan. Her graying hair was cut angularly and the points of her ears parted the locks. Bonnie sent the woman a confused look. "Your _t'hy'la_, child. Tell me about him."

_T'hy'la. _The word sounded so familiar to Bonnie, echoing through thoughts that didn't belong to her. Spock knew that word. That word was at the core of their meld. But what did it mean? "What is that? Tah-hee-la?"

The older woman tilted her head sharply, her only outward sign of surprise. "How can you not know? His essence lives in your very skin; any Vulcan could sense that you are bound to one of our own. He has claimed you as his mate, child!"

Bonnie was still for a second as she absorbed the information. Then she burst into tears. It was hard enough to leave that life behind when Spock was just a brilliant and beautiful possibility. But now that she knew the truth – that their meld had bound them together in a profound, life-changing, inextricable way – she'd never be free of him. She would always want him, long for him, cry out for him in her mind. And he would always feel her absence like a hole in his being. They'd had a moment together, when they were one mind, complete and whole and together. And because of that stunning, suspended moment, without each other, they would both be broken forever.

The old woman took both of Bonnie's hands as she wept and gently tilted her chin up. Bonnie only saw a blurry, distorted vision of the woman through her tears, but the touch was comforting. "Tell me about his eyes." The woman said, hoping to calm the hysterical human.

Bonnie was disoriented by the abrupt subject change, but tried anyway. "They're dark." she said, sniffling. "Almost black. But, god, they're so beautiful and expressive. Everyone thinks he's cold, but if they just took the time! If they just looked in his eyes, they'd see! His thoughts and emotions run so deep, it amazes me how anyone can see him as some emotionless drone. It's all there, in his eyes…"

Bonnie rambled on about Spock, with occasional promptings from her Vulcan companion. Eventually, her eyes closed as she recalled even the smallest details about him: his walk, the way he'd lift one corner of his mouth yet insist he wasn't smiling, the heat of his body, that oddly spicy scent attached to his skin, the faint green blush on his face when she first touched him. Everything faded as she concentrated on him. The tumultuous emotions of the room stopped their bombardment and the noise became subdued; she went to another place. She was sitting on nothing but inky, black atmosphere surrounded by a cocoon of warm silence. It was like the universe had stopped and she was all alone...almost. A specter image of Spock knelt down beside her, brushing two fingers over her ear. She could almost feel it. His transparent form became darker and more solid with every detail she remembered until she was no longer meditating on the physical. She began to recall things from inside his mind; deeper and deeper she went, through the maze of foreign thoughts and unfamiliar emotions. Soon, she moved passed the mental as well and into something intangible. She remembered this ethereal, indefinable place touching her in the meld. It was…him. That's the best she could do when describing it. It was the core of his being, his soul, his essence, who he really was inside. It was a place in him that existed apart from the events of his life or the things he believed in.

She clung to this awareness of her mate. The ghost-like Spock became so real to her when she focused on the spiritual level of him, she didn't want to let it go. But the choice, it seemed, wasn't hers. In her dark, meditative place, the scene began to change. Ripples shuddered through the peaceful place, distorting her phantom-Spock. She watched him fade from sight. She could have watched the spot where he'd been forever, but another person entered her sacred space. A robed figured moved silently through the black of her inner-world. His face was hidden by a large hood and he seemed to glide through her mind. Concentrating on him, her brow furrowed in confusion. With some sort of inner sight, she knew he was old without ever looking at him. His mind was heavy with the memories of long life and much pain. And yet, despite all the profound differences between her Spock and this man, their soul was the same. This was Spock…but not.

Bonnie's eyes snapped open and immediately zeroed in on the physical form of the man. He glided through the room like he had in her mind, silently and gracefully. She could see him now; a long, wrinkled face but with very familiar, expressive eyes.

"SPOCK!" Bonnie screamed. She knew it didn't make sense. This man couldn't possibly be Spock, but the word ripped through her throat before she could stop herself. Surprisingly, he turned toward her with shock lingering just beneath his blank face. He walked purposefully toward her cage and she leapt off the ground, clinging to the bars as she watched his approach. She was vaguely aware of the old Vulcan woman rising with her, but was wholly consumed by the man in front of her.

Spock reached the cage and nodded to the old woman before focusing on Bonnie. "I'm afraid you have mistaken me for another, Miss. My name is Prime."

"But you _feel_ like my Spock!" Bonnie blurted, instantly frustrated that her mouth was running away with her again.

"_Your_ Spock." Prime said suspiciously. "How do you know this man, Spock?

"He's my –" Bonnie looked back at the old woman questioningly, who whispered the correct word in her ear. "He's my _t'hy'la_."

Prime's mouth parted in slack-jawed shock, but he could sense she was telling the truth. Not only because of her words, but because she had been marked as a bonded female. "What's your name?" he nearly whispered.

"Bonnie Scott. Please, if you know him-"

"You are Montgomery Scott's sister." Prime said amazedly. "I met you once, very briefly. I never imagined we could be…mates."

"What? I'm not your mate, you twisted bastard, and I've never met you before in my life!" Bonnie yelled. "How do you know Monty? Or Spock? Were you working with the Pearce's?"

"Miss Scott!" Prime interrupted. "Please, there is much you do not know. If you would allow a limited mind-meld, all will become clear."

Bonnie wanted to shout 'no!', but her mouth was working against her today; she couldn't form the word. There was absolutely no reason why she should trust him; he was at a slave trade and he knew details about her, but every instinct in her body was telling her to put her faith in him. So she did. Bonnie nodded slightly and an aged hand lightly touched her face. It wasn't like her meld with Spock; this was more like Prime entering her mind so he could talk to her.

_I am Spock. _Prime's voice echoed through her mind. A series of images and events ran behind her eyelids faster than she could process, but the message got through. He was Spock, from an alternate time-line. She saw the Nero Incident from his eyes and marveled. This was one element of the incident that her agency hadn't discovered – there were two Spock's in one universe!

_Why are you here? _Bonnie asked. _This place is terrible!_

_Since the destruction of our home world, Vulcans have become something of an exotic commodity on the slave trade, particularly the women. One of our shuttles bound for New Vulcan was boarded by Orions. Several of us volunteered to find them and this seemed like the logical place to start. We intend to buy them back. Tell me, how did Spock's mate end up at market?_

Bonnie concentrated on the events that led her to this point, sending them to Spock Prime through their limited connection.

_Ah. I understand. You are a very brave woman, Bonnie Scott. Much like your brother. _

_I don't feel brave. I want to go home. I want to see my brother and Spock. I can't take this! I want to go home! I want to go home! I WANT TO GO HOME!_

Spock Prime left Bonnie's mind and shook his head to clear it from her frayed emotions. She was crying now, the old woman supporting her weight so she wouldn't collapse. Spock Prime reached through the bars and gripped Bonnie's shoulder lightly. When she finally met his eyes, he spoke. "Do not fear, Miss Scott. I know what my younger self means to you and I can only imagine how much you mean to him. I would not leave you both to suffer. I will return you to your _t'hy'la_."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Kirk's head lolled, his chin hitting his chest. Instantly, his head snapped back up and his eyes blinked tiredly. It had been a day. Just one day and everything had changed. News of Bonnie's death had spread through the ship and everyone was mourning in one way or another. After the initial shock, Scotty demanded that engineering be cleared out and Kirk had been too drained to deny the request. Kirk figured the crazed Scot was either tearing the room apart or cleaning every inch of it. Chekov, Sulu, and McCoy were in the doctor's quarters, listening to old blues music and passing around a bottle of whiskey. Uhura was sitting outside the doors of engineering, silent tears running down her cheeks while she waited for Scotty to come out. And Kirk was in Spock's quarters.

After they'd discovered the Vulcan missing from the bridge, Kirk knew that Spock needed him. When he'd first come into his quarters, they were dark but Kirk could make out Spock's form by the faint light of the stars. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the pillow as though someone should be lying there. And his position hadn't changed in over twenty-four hours. Spock never acknowledged his Captain's presence but Kirk knew Spock was aware of him. Kirk never said a word or tried to get Spock to open up. Spock would talk when he was ready. Until then, Kirk would wait and hope his presence was comforting.

Kirk's eyes slowly lowered again, his head sinking to his chest, but he was completely alert when he heard the bed sheets rustle. Kirk kept his eyes trained on Spock as the Vulcan turned toward him and stared. After several minutes, Spock finally opened his mouth.

"She is not dead." Spock said evenly.

All the relief Kirk felt at finally getting Spock to talk instantly vanished. _Now_ he understood why they needed a counselor on board. There is no way he could deal with Spock when he was like this. He had the appearance of a calm and logical Vulcan but that mask of rationality was covering up his desperate disbelief and staunch denial that Bonnie was dead, even in the face of irrefutable facts. Kirk was at a loss! He didn't know what to say to make the situation better or at least _real_ for Spock.

"I'm so sorry, Spock." Kirk choked out.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Jim. She is not dead." Spock repeated calmly.

"Spock, we found the shuttle…the wreckage. You saw it!"

"Facts are finite but interpretations of those facts vary greatly. It is true, the shuttle we believed her to be on was destroyed, but that is not indicative of her death, in and of itself. I cannot explain this, but I _know_ that she is alive. Vulcan bond-mates can often sense each other after many years together and many mind-melds between them. Though Bonnie and I only melded once, I believe the same principle is in affect with this inexplicable knowledge."

"That inexplicable knowledge is a side-effect of grief!" Kirk cried. He had to do this. It was terrible, being the one to make Spock acknowledge her death, but it had to be done before his friend could begin to heal. "Spock, Bonnie did an incredibly brave thing. She sacrificed herself to ensure the safety of our galaxy! She did it to ensure no one ever has to endure the pain you did, watching your planet be destroyed! And as long as you deny her death, you're trivializing that sacrifice! Remember her, honor her, but know that she isn't coming back!"

"She is!" Spock yelled, rising from the bed and stalking toward Jim. Kirk could see the careful mask of serenity crack; anger, pain, sadness, denial and love showed through as Spock pinned Kirk to the wall, his face only inches from his Captain's. Spock sneered at his human friend, logic and calm leaving him completely. "Humans claim to be so tolerant yet you assign your human motivations to my emotions! I know she is alive because she is my mate! I am bound to her in a way you couldn't hope to understand and you dismiss it as mere grief! Typical."

Kirk hooked a leg around Spock's ankle and unbalanced him. With the upper-hand, Kirk turned the tables and slammed Spock into the wall, none-too-gently. "And how typical of a Vulcan to delude himself into thinking he's in control of his emotions at a time like this! I'm not talking about 'mere grief', I'm talking about the unimaginable grief of losing Bonnie! She's the woman you imagined your life with, am I right? That kind of loss will fuck with anyone's head!"

"No." Spock denied weakly, shaking his head as though emerging from a daze. He was losing hold of that connection, the one that told him Bonnie was alive; he was beginning to doubt. The facts were stacked against him and his turbulent emotions were confusing the situation. He was disoriented and didn't know what to believe anymore.

"Yes!" Kirk shouted. His voice became softer and he captured Spock's eyes with his own. "Yes. Bonnie is dead, Spock. It's horrible and unbearable and sad, but there it is."

Spock's back slid down the wall and he sat on the floor of his room, empty. No room for hope, no room for anger. No room for energy, really. Kirk sat down beside him and put an arm around his numb friend. Kirk felt he should say something, but only clichéd platitudes came to mind. Luckily, he was saved by the chirp of the comm. system.

"Ensign Moore to Captain Kirk."

"Ensign, I thought I told you not to disturb me." Kirk sighed tiredly.

"Yes, sir." The Ensign responded nervously. "But there's a ship approaching."

"Someone we know?" Kirk asked.

"Well, the pilot seems to think so. He said his name is Prime and that he's an old friend of yours."

"Put him through to Commander Spock's quarters." he said, straightening at this unexpected visit.

Kirk stood up and pulled his friend with him. "Come on, buddy. Old-You is here."

"I have no desire to speak with anyone, least of all myself." Spock murmured.

Kirk ignored him and planted the Vulcan in his own desk chair. Kirk stood over him and activated the call. Spock Prime's wizened face came on the screen, a gentle twinkling in his eyes. "Greetings, Jim. Spock."

"Good to see you, Prime." Kirk attempted a smile, but failed. "What brings you to these parts?"

"I believe I have something that belongs on your ship." Spock Prime smiled. He called over his shoulder, "Come say hello, my dear."

Both Kirk and Spock waited for the mystery guest, intrigued. A moment later, the view-screen was occupied by a beautiful face, made up with light purple markings, a huge smile and watery eyes.

"I'll be damned." Kirk whispered in awe.

"Bonnie." Spock breathed.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

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	13. Together At Last

**Disclaimer: still not mine. shocker.**

**I know it took a while, but I wanted it to be perfect. Don't know if I succeeded or not, I'll let you decide.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

It was a slow day for Transporter Room One. No emergency beam-outs or mid-air energizing, not even a by-the-book transport. But that all changed when three men came running down the hall, two from one direction and one from the other. They converged at the transporter room doors and entered together, startling poor Ensign Spencer when all three barked 'Dismissed!' at the same moment. As soon as the frightened ensign scurried out of the room, Kirk and Spock positioned themselves directly in front of the transporter pad while Scotty took a seat at the transporter controls.

"Ya better not be jokin' with me, Kirk." Scotty growled, programming the transporter for the next beam. "'Cause I'm a wee bit unstable at the moment."

"She's alive!" Kirk insisted. "She's with that old guy who was with me on Delta Vega! Remember?"

Scotty looked the Captain over critically before grinning. "Then what are we waitin' for?"

"For you two to cease this pointless, illogical, ridiculous, time-wasting conversation!" Spock put in, his voice rising in agitation with every word. "If you're finished, perhaps we can return to the matter at hand and bring Bonnie aboard?"

"Our bad, buddy." Kirk muttered in unison with Scotty's reluctant, "Sorry, Spock."

Scotty worked the transporter controls, but let them go at the last moment and whispered a rushed 'Hail Mary'. "Here we go, lads. Energizing."

All three turned as the pad activated. The swirling lights danced on the pad, brightening and then fading, leaving Bonnie standing before them. She was wrapped in a hooded Vulcan robe, making her look like a child wearing her parent's clothing. The oversized robe dragged behind her on the floor, the sleeves went way past her hands and Spock had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. She smiled at them all softly. Her hair was done up with fancy ribbons and the left side of her face was covered in an artistic, swirling pattern, but none of it mattered next to that smile.

Scotty seemed to agree. He charged her and scooped Bonnie up, holding her tightly. There was no spinning or tickling this time, just a brother assuring himself that his sister was alive and safe. As Scotty and Kirk closed in on Bonnie, Spock backed away until he was pressed up against the bulkhead. His intense stare never left her and his eyes grew darker as he searched her face and body almost hungrily. He existed in conflict, just seeing her. Relief had flooded his system when she'd materialized, but at the same moment, he was overcome by something primal and demanding. There had been no time to dwell on their meld before she was taken; did she know? Did she know how fundamentally they were joined? Could she sense the bond he'd created with her? But while his body was burning to claim her, his mind was strangely patient as she reunited with her brother. Let them hug and catch up. Let her do the same with Jim too, for that matter. He could wait, secure in the knowledge that she was his. And when they were finally alone…she would know it, too.

Scotty finally released Bonnie – not because he wanted to but because she insisted he was cracking ribs. Just a moment after Scotty had put her down, Kirk swooped in and picked Bonnie up bridal style with a huge grin on his face. Kirk spun Bonnie around, threw her into the air, and blew raspberries on her neck, both of them laughing.

"Don't ever leave again!" Kirk shouted above their laughter. "These two clowns were useless without you!"

Kirk set her back down and the jovial mood in the room was immediately replaced by tense and awkward silence. During their rough-housing, the clasp on Bonnie's Vulcan robe must have come undone. As soon as she was on her own two feet, the robe slipped from her tiny frame, leaving her in the revealing slave-girl outfit.

"Wow." Kirk said lowly, looking her up and down. Glancing at Spock out of the corner of his eye, Kirk gave a wicked smirk. "I'm thinking you have an interesting story to tell, Bonnie. One that might best be told after you and I have a long, sweaty pillow fight…or maybe while you feed me grapes."

"I'll be feedin' ya yer own pair o' grapes if ya don't stop leerin' at me sister, Kirk." Scotty warned.

"Aw, you're such a good big brother, Monty." Bonnie said, rolling her eyes. Nonetheless, it was sweet and Bonnie threw her arms around Scotty's neck.

"Ah, ah, ah. No touchy." Scotty ground out, totally uncomfortable. He grabbed Bonnie's forearms and removed her, holding her at least three feet away from him. "Sorry, Tidbit, but I canna be around ya when yer dressed like that. I mean, o' course I missed ya! But this is just so…eww. And since I want to be able to look ya in the eye again, I'm gonna go. Bye!"

Scotty bolted out of the room like his engines were on fire. Kirk walked up to Bonnie slowly and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, ignoring the rumbling growl coming from Spock.

"Welcome back, wicked pixie." Kirk smiled down on her softly.

"Thanks, Jim." Bonnie replied, eyes becoming misty.

Kirk leaned down and whispered in her ear, "He was a wreck without you. Make it right, okay?"

"Okay." she whispered back. He gave her another kiss on the cheek and left, but not without throwing a wink in Spock's direction.

The transporter room doors closed behind Kirk with a small rush of air and the room was left in total silence. Spock's gaze never left her, even as her eyes were focused intently on her bare feet. For some inexplicable reason, Bonnie felt shy. Around Spock, of all people! This man meant more to her than language was capable of conveying, but there was so much to say! So much had happened that she didn't know where to start. So she went with the first thing she thought of.

"Hi." Bonnie said softly, a timid smile playing on her lips.

"Hello." Spock replied, his voice lower than normal.

Her confidence bolstered, Bonnie approached him. It was like their first meeting, in a way. Her focus was devoted to him and him alone, mere shadows of his true emotions gently washing over her. Nothing existed outside his dark eyes and it didn't feel like she was walking toward him anymore, it felt like she was being _pulled_. Hairs rose on her arms and the back of her neck; a light flush slowly crept onto her face. Something in his expression and those deep black orbs filled her with breathless anticipation. Every female instinct in her body was on alert and practically vibrating in response to him; something big was about to happen. It thrilled and frightened her, but she carried herself forward.

She stopped only inches from him, close enough to feel the body heat rolling off him in waves but not yet touching him. Looking at her mate, Bonnie was shocked to see he looked almost…scared. He was pressed hard up against the bulkhead; his eyes were impossibly wide, staring at her unblinkingly and his breath came in rapid, shallow pants. On instinct, she ran her fingertips over one of his eyebrows and followed the curve of his face down the jaw line. It didn't have the desired effect. Instead of calming him and reassuring him with her presence, his body jolted at the light touch as if startled by it.

"What's wrong?" Bonnie asked uncertainly, losing her confidence. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

Spock's head snapped up sharply at the question. "Of course I am, Bonnie. But, I am afraid the emotional nature of your return has compromised my control." he lowered his head shamefully and nearly whispered, "I do not wish to hurt you."

Bonnie shook her head and smiled softly. Stepping into him, Spock's breath hitched as her body came into full contact with his. Her breath ghosted over his ear as she whispered, "You would never hurt me. I trust you, _t'hy'la_."

That word. Coming from Bonnie's lips, that one word made Spock snap. No more patience or control, just heart-breaking, mind-shattering, soul-consuming _need_.

One moment Bonnie was standing against him lightly and the next, Spock's body had her pinned to the bulkhead. Her mind was swimming and she felt dizzy. He was hard and hot against her; his dark irises were now indistinguishable from the jet black of his pupil. The intensity of his gaze burned through her and her head fell back against the wall, something like a whimper escaping her. His long fingers pressed against her face, but there was no whispered 'my mind to your mind'. As soon as his fingertips touched her, lust like she'd never felt before rolled through her body. Every nerve was electrified and his heat consumed her. His lust fed her own and then their lips crashed together, neither sure who had made the first move.

Every touch was amplified by their meld as images and fantasies from his mind poured into hers. His lips slid across hers and in her mind, she could see Spock kissing down her naked body as she sucked on his fingers. When she tore her mouth away from his and licked and nipped at his ear, she saw his hips grinding against hers with aching sensuality and heard their mingled, desperate cries. She tilted her head back against the wall as Spock frantically kissed down the column of her neck, but Spock's mind fed her another sinful fantasy; she felt his hot breath against her pulse point as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and pushed into her for the first time. Spock cupped her breast, running his thumb over the tight peak and Bonnie saw a silhouette of herself, riding Spock, her breasts bouncing closer and closer to his face until he took one in his mouth. The flow of images stopped as Spock removed his hand from her face. Bonnie almost cried out at the loss of that incredible double ecstasy, the combined pleasures of their bodies and minds. But she quickly forgot about those sexual visions, because Spock now had two hands free to explore her body. The ecstasy of the physical was building up to impossible heights and it more than made up for the loss of their mental connection.

It was desperate and frenzied, even slightly hysterical. Their hands were moving over each other so fast and their kisses were all teeth and tongues and bruising strength. It was a struggle – a struggle to be closer, a struggle for dominance, a struggle toward the fleeting, inexpressible rapture of completion. For Spock, lust may have been the tip of the spear, but fear, worry, relief, and anger at her kidnapping was driving it forward almost violently. Spock grasped her upper arms tightly and held her against the wall as he plundered and ravaged her mouth. Even in his compromised state, a small part of him was worried he was hurting her. However, that fear was laid to rest as Bonnie hooked a leg over his hip and ground herself against him, moaning and crying out into their kiss. Still pinning her, Spock moved down her body, kissing and sucking at her neck and then her breasts. Bonnie fought half-heartedly against his exquisite torture; part of her was frantic with the need to touch him, too, but another part, a larger part, reveled in his mad passion.

Bonnie's writhing pleasure only fed his desire and Spock attacked her already aching breasts with renewed vigor. She yelped as he gently bit down on one nipple, but it was quickly replaced by a long moan. He repeated the wonderful torment on the other, swirling his tongue around her puckered peaks and letting his hand drift down to her flat, painted stomach. His mouth followed the trail downward, abandoning her breasts. He nipped and licked down her stomach, a firm grip on her waist. But soon, the flood of emotions that fueled his intense need became overwhelmed by something else as he became aware of their position.

He was kneeling before her, his face against her stomach. His kisses slowed and he became overwhelmed with awe. Ancient Vulcans, in their savage and primitive religion, had revered the female body, even worshipped it. The female form was considered the most holy thing in creation, for a woman could do that which only God was capable of: create and nurture life. But Surak had taught them differently. He maintained it was illogical to hold one gender above another, for both were needed to foster new life. It was a logical argument, yes, but didn't seem to hold up as truth when compared to this moment. He found serenity in her, but also passion. She calmed his emotions but made him aware of them at the same time. The mere thought of her inspired deep and intense love to flow through him. It was too strong to be suppressed and strangely, he found he didn't want or need to restrain it. It connected him to something higher than himself. It connected him to _them_, him and Bonnie together. Spock never imagined he would think this, but…Surak was wrong. She was holy. She was sacred. And he would worship at the alter of her body and mind forever.

Bonnie slowly came out of her lust-induced haze when Spock's hands and lips stopped moving. Looking down, Spock had a loose grip on her hips and his head was bowed in front of her stomach. It confused her, of course, but she knew her mate well enough to see that whatever he was experiencing was more important than sex. Bonnie ran a hand through his hair gently and he buried his face into her stomach.

The realization of his unfathomable connection to her brought back every emotion he'd experienced while she was gone. All the worry and fear returned, intensified by his revelation. What if she'd been killed? How could he have survived without her? He pressed his face hard into her exposed abdomen, breathing heavily.

"Spock? Talk to me. What can I do?" Bonnie whispered, stroking Spock's hair as he kneeled in front of her.

A staggered breath escaped him and his voice broke as he answered, "Your absence…affected me deeply."

Bonnie smiled down on him gently. "I missed you, too, love."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Bonnie woke up suddenly, looking at her surroundings with confusion. She slumped back on the bed and smiled in the dark when she remembered: she was in Spock's quarters. His arm was firmly around her waist and his hot, naked skin was pressed against her. Despite the heavy emotions of their reunion, their lust could only be stalled momentarily, not stopped. They practically ran from the transporter room to his quarters and then…she blushed and let a small giggle escape. She would never say a bad word about Vulcan control again; he'd spent hours worshipping her body before satisfying his own need for release. There really were no words for how incredible it was. It had been spiritual, yet intensely primal, a combination she hadn't thought possible.

Catching a flickering light from the corner of her eye, she remembered what had woken her up. Looking at Spock's computer screen, her face blanched as she saw the planet Saturn, gray and yellow and surrounded by rings, flashing on the screen. It was the symbol of her agency cell; Titan was trying to contact her. Slipping carefully out of Spock's grasp, she pulled on one of his robes and sat at the desk. Activating the call, Titan's face occupied the screen. He still looked stern and dignified, but she could see the relief and happiness in his eyes.

"Tethys." he said professionally. His face softened and he smiled slightly. "Bonnie. You're okay?"

"No worse for wear." she shrugged. "How did you know I was here?"

"Jesus, Bonnie, one of our agents – not to mention my goddaughter – was lost! Did you really think we wouldn't be monitoring Enterprise? We were aware the second you came aboard. I wanted to wait until you were alone, but there seems to be the constant presence of a Vulcan bio-sign." Titan teased, before turning serious again. "The agency is eager for your report."

"Traitor's dead, traitor's father is dead, and the information was destroyed. I'll write a detailed report and transmit it tomorrow."

"You did an outstanding job, Bonnie. The higher-ups will be relieved to hear it." Titan smiled.

"Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" Bonnie said bluntly. "I was compromised, just as you thought I would be. What's the agency going to do with me? Am I going to be reassigned, am I going deep underground, what?"

"Actually, that's my call." Titan grinned. "And I say you can stay right where you are."

"How's that even possible? I'm not a member of Star Fleet! Hell, I've been a member of the agency since I was 17! For all intents and purposes, I don't even have a past!"

"Yes you do." Titan corrected. "You have the past we created for you in preparation for this assignment." Titan grabbed a PADD from off his desk and read off her bogus file. "Bonnie Scott was accepted into Star Fleet Academy on stardate 2252.65. She attended for four years with a double major in psychology and xenopsychology. She was stationed on a remote research facility in the Falkone sector until her assignment to the USS Enterprise. Bonnie, if you had failed at this assignment, that information had the potential to destroy our galaxy. Making you cut all ties to your past is a poor way to say 'thank you'. You deserve this."

"I don't know what to say." she breathed, happiness bubbling up inside of her. "Thank you so much, Ti- Uncle Levi."

"Get some sleep, kiddo. Send me your report tomorrow." Titan said, ending the transmission.

Bonnie sat at the computer desk, a huge grin on her face. She was staying – with Monty, with Enterprise and most importantly, with Spock. Turning back to the bed, she found Spock's dark eyes on her. Seeing him awake and knowing they could be together forever, she bounced in her seat, laughing and shrieking with pure joy. Running to the bed, she flung herself on to Spock, catching sight of his upturned lips.

Kissing him lightly, she took off her robe and snuggled back into him. His arm came around her and he kissed her neck, murmuring in Vulcan. Bonnie fell asleep to the rhythmic cadence as Spock whispered, 'I love you' into her ear over and over again.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**The End**

**The Sequel "Masquerade" is now up! Bonnie and Spock are still in it, but it focuses on Kirk finding someone. Check it out!**


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